


The Ballad of Dewey Finn

by Beejbeanboo



Category: Beetlejuice - All Media Types, Beetlejuice - Perfect/Brown & King, School of Rock - Lloyd Webber/Slater/Fellowes
Genre: A demon will provide, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Beetlejuice is a drama queen, Dewey needs some love, Dewey's favourite word is the f bomb, First time writing something like this, Ill try to write beej more in character, M/M, NSFW, Ned is Dewey's best friend, No one is a teachers pet, Oral Sex, POV Switching between characters, References to Games, References to films, References to novels, Sex Talk, That's hard af tho, beetlebabes dni, but that will be later on, literally the first time I'm writing NSFW, mainly the two, maybe summer, more additional tags to come, my first attempt at it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:42:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27195289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beejbeanboo/pseuds/Beejbeanboo
Summary: After their break up, the students and friends of Dewey Finn tell him to take a vacation away from the school to work on  himself. Maybe meet some new people, but after a run in at a creepy house, Dewey finds more than he bargained for.Love, discussions about Death, and conspiracy surrounds him. So what will he choose? Love? Death? It's up to him.
Relationships: Dewbug, Dewey Finn/Beetlejuice
Comments: 25
Kudos: 28





	1. Break Up

**Author's Note:**

> I have been wanting to write a Dewey Finn x Beetlejuice fanfic for a while!
> 
> Don't worry I have not forgotten about Heart of Stone and I will be working on it alongside this one, I hope you guys will really like it!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been wanting to write a Dewey Finn x Beetlejuice fanfic for a while!
> 
> Don't worry I have not forgotten about Heart of Stone and I will be working on it alongside this one, I hope you guys will really like it!

Dewey Finn.

Musician. Guitarist. Rockstar. School Teacher. Shit starter. Lazy.

People have called him by many names through out the years, and at this point in his life, he didn’t really let that bother him. The bullies who gave him wet willies, swirlies and throw his books down the stairs did bother Dewey when he was younger but now, Dewey would smile and laugh at that. In the end, Dewey got the last laugh. Dewey surrounded himself with a constant flow of rock music. Jimi Hendrix, Eric Clapton, Jimmy Page, Brian May and what he heard through their music from their respected bands gave Dewey the dream of becoming a rockstar. Patti DiMarco, in all her bitchy glory, told him that his dreams were fickle and that he should give up. Well jokes on her, he went on a small tour with the School of Rock that garnered critical acclaim for the kids talents and his zany personality. Too bad that his relationship with Rosalie ended.

Rosalie Mullins ended their relationship after a year of sex, drugs (not really), and rock and roll. It was a tumultuous relationship at best, they both were very different people but they still loved each other. However, Rosalie put all of her time and effort into Horace Green and the school is always her number one priority above herself, her relationships and unfortunately, above Dewey. He thought that she had changed when Dewey reintroduced her for her love of rock but she couldn't shirk away from her duties as the Principal for the school. She did love him and their breakup was bitter sweet and ended on good terms. Rosalie pulled Dewey aside one day and talked about their failing relationship. Dewey knew it was falling apart after both of them started to message each other less. Five texts turned to one, one phone call lead to none and dates turned to... well you get the picture. After a final kiss goodbye and a promise to come to work, Rosalie broke it off and told him, well mostly for her, to keep smiling and think about the children.

It sucked.

It REALLY sucked.

Dewey spent that entire weekend with cheap whiskey and ginger ale mixed in a high ball glass. He sat alone in his underwear on a peculiar smelling couch watching shitty B-movie rom-coms. Before they broke up, the weekend were their date nights and they would often watch cheesy rom-coms together with popcorn and greasy pizza. It wasn’t romantic but it was what they did and they were happy. When Dewey came back to work that Monday, he equipped himself with a gross disposition and a heartbroken smile. His peers knew something was wrong but claimed ignorance and dispersed themselves to their respective classrooms when the school bell rang. Although that didn’t stop his children from noticing and inquiring about what had happened to him.

Especially Summer.

Little son of a bitch caught on instantly when Dewey failed to make a snappy comeback after she tried to provoke him.

After the final bell, Summer and the rest of the band ran back to the music room to interrogate why Dewey wasn’t himself today. Summer, Zack, Tomika, Billy, Freddie and all of his kids made him tell them on the spot. Dewey couldn’t lie to his students and told them that he and Rosalie had split. The kids didn’t take the news lightly and were devastated but nonetheless glad that he told them. Summer had the initiative that Dewey should take a week or two away from work so that he could recuperate his feelings and come back after his mind had cleared.

Dewey tried to deflect that he was fine and it was just a hard day while quickly pointing out that finding a substitute teacher on short notice is going to be very difficult. On top of that, the paperwork that was necessary for the payroll might create stress for Rosalie and Dewey did not want that. With disregard of her teacher, Summer and the rest of the band marched out of the music room towards the Rosalie’s office. Dewey called after them to stop, threatening to fail them if they reached her door. The band all turned simultaneously to look at him to give Dewey the finger. If he was any other teacher, he would be insulted. He did teach his kids to Stick It To The Man whenever possible.. 

Freddie was the one who kicked the door open to Rosalie’s office. Being Freddie, he rushed to the desk and demanded that Dewey take a vacation. Rosalie was stunned at first, but calmed when the cool headed Summer calmly pushed Freddie to the side and petitioned that _both_ Dewey Finn and Rosalie Mullins take a two week vacation so that they could put their old relationship behind them and come back to work with a clear mind, ready to stitch their working relationship back together. Summer also tapped her foot and chastised both teachers that having a relationship in the workplace was bad for morale and that this break would be beneficial.

Dewey and Rosalie stared at each other in silence but later broke down into hysterics. Before Freddie rudely kicked the door, Rosalie had already called Ned Schneebly to fill in for Dewey as the children’s music teacher for awhile and Rosalie would call Ned back when she discussed how long that the two of them should be away. She was also planning on taking a week or two off as well, she praised Summer for her maturity and professionalism. Rosalie told her vice-principal to fill in for her when she went away as well, to avoid anarchism in the school. She looked at the band when she said that. Dewey silently thanked his kids and ushered them out of the office so that he and Rosalie could talk. Dewey and Rosalie let their situation air out of the room first by not speaking to each other, when Rosalie was about to speak, her phone rang. She picked up and was taken aback at how Ned knew so quickly that both of them were taking a two week break.

Apparently, during School of Rocks small tour, Summer and Ned had exchanged numbers so that Summer could keep tabs on Dewey and report to Ned whenever Dewey did something drastic, Dewey _did_ need to pay rent after all.

After Dewey got home from Horace Green, Ned suggested for him to head to Connecticut and stay at a hotel and tell him to explore the town. Meet someone new.

So that’s how Dewey ended up in Winter River, Connecticut. Ned told Dewey that it’s a small town so he couldn’t get into too much trouble. After hours of persuading, Ned finally got Dewey to reluctantly pack some things and set out for Winter River.

The drive went by pretty fast and even his beat up van was able to keep up with the speeding traffic. The landscape was plain but he couldn’t lament about it, Dewey had his tunes blasting from his mixtape in the small beat up speaker. It was a nice ride, especially when other people gave him the side eye while he was rocking out in his van. Dewey in turn gave them the middle finger and continued wailing and drumming the beat on his steering wheel.

Winter River is a quaint little town, multiple hills surround it and Dewey felt this place had a comfortable vibe. Ned said that since it was a small town, they don’t get a lot of tourists so Dewey didn't need to worry about annoying families trying to figure out where to go for dinner and all that. Dewey had to guess that all the locals knew each other by first name considering the population was under 1300.

The hotel manager greeted Dewey as soon as he pulled up to the hotel, the manager was so excited that there was someone coming to stay, he introduced himself as Caleb and helped Dewey unload his luggage from his van. Caleb was a older gentleman, with balding blonde-grey hair and a scratchy looking beard. His clothes were simple and not anything you would expect a hotel manager to wear. Just a loose flannel, jeans and comfortable flats for shoes.

Caleb kept yapping about how glad he was that Dewey came, he also told him that Ned had called the hotel for the room that sent Caleb jumping with glee. Everything that Caleb said though went in one ear and out the other though, all Dewey wanted to do was head to his room and grab a bottle of whiskey at the liquor store right beside the hotel.

The room that had been given to him was about the same size as the attic he had been squatting at when Ned and Patti lived together, maybe a little bigger perhaps. Needless to say, after Dewey’s stunt at Horace Green, Patti dumped Ned for associating with a criminal and good riddance to her. Dewey really never approved of her anyway.

The room had one queen sized bed, a nightstand with two drawers, a desk with a lamp, a big glassed door that lead to some sort of balcony, a giant painting above said bed, a dresser with a tv perched on top. Typical standard hotel fare. Dewey thanked the man and escorted Caleb out of the room, bidding him a good day and that Dewey will see Caleb tomorrow.

Dewey set his bags on top the bed and went to the bathroom, it was a small bathroom sure but it was all he needed. Dewey wasn’t going to stay here long.

So, now he was here. Alone.

He looked to the mirror and saw a disheveled gremlin. Dewey’s hair was wild and sticking out in all directions, his beard, unkempt from the lack of care and honestly a little smelly, his clothes… well that was another story, it stuck to him in weird places. He took a whiff of his armpit and recoiled from the smell of garlicky body odour. How did Caleb not react to something that smelled like a dead zebra rotting in the African sun. Dewey really has to hire a stylist for him so he could like a rockstar but still be sophisticated enough for society. Maybe Billy could help him with that aesthetic, little man actually had the knack for fashion. Well since he is a single and free man, might as well start anew and can think on that later.

Clean shaven.

Maybe that could be a new song for the band..

Dewey took a deep breath, he hadn’t shaved ever since he had formed School of Rock and to lose this part of him made him feel like he is losing some part of the band. It was his signature look and it wasn’t something he wanted to part with but for the sake of him letting go of his relationship with Rosalie, he had to. Dewey wasn’t a hairy guy per se but he was above average in terms of body hair. Turning on the tap and lathering the shaving cream on, he hesitantly swiped the blade over his right cheek. He rubbed at the spot to find the patch he shaved was smooth.. Dewey spared one final look at the mirror to see what he was about to do and continued on. The facial hair slowly swirled down the drain as the now clean shaven Dewey looked at his reflection. He didn’t like shaving for a reason, he looks like a teenager with no remnants of facial hair. It’s not ideal for picking up girls and who would want to spare a glance at a teenage looking man. Thankfully he didn’t nick himself with the razor and his face was tinged red from the cream. Curse the lack of melanin be damned.

After that was sorted, he needed to tame his unruly hair, the shower was on with a turn of the nozzle and down came the onslaught of warming water. It’s not like Dewey liked being clean, it was the time it took in the shower that made him reluctant to use it. He could be writing a song or rocking out on his axe. Although his kids, peers and Ned would tell him otherwise. They all said that the best time to contemplate and write music was actually in the shower, well not all of them, mostly Ned told him that. Ned recently got in touch with this crazy lady about gems and meditation. But if Ned was happy, Dewey was happy. Dewey can’t complain much… even if it was a little annoying.

The shower was mediocre at best so he didn’t pay much attention to it, might as well take Ned’s advice. Dewey let his mind wander.. Hearing roaring melodies coming deep from his unconscious, the melodies vibrating in his head and maybe that new song could be formed in here.. He can imagine the band standing in front of a screaming audience, the lights descending upon the stage and the kids all readying up their tune.

_An opening open strum on the guitar starting on E coming from Zack, Lawrence hitting the keys with ferocity, Katie giving the bass an emotive duck lip, Freddie tapping the hi-hats mystically and Tomika slowly sliding up to belt a high G._

Maybe Ned was right, this could be one way that Dewey could write some songs. He needed to get the HELL out of this shower. Dewey quickly lathered his shampoo and conditioner on his hair, body wash rubbing all over himself. He quickly towelled off and hopped out. Not bothering to put on underwear, he pulled on wooly pants and got out his notebook to start writing. His guitar was still in its case on the bed beside him so he could be ready to pull it out and test out the melody.

Before he knew it, the clock read 8 PM, looks like he forgot to eat. He should pause for now and order something.

Just as he reached the phone, a knock came from outside the door.

Dewey froze, what could Caleb want?

“Mr. Finn, sir? I have dinner for you.”

Well, that’s convenient. Dewey threw on a bright orange sweater to at least get some decency and not traumatize the man.

Dewey opened the door to find the man holding a tray with an array of food. “Caleb, I didn’t ask for room service.” Dewey frowned at the man.

The man shyly looked to the floor, “Indeed you didn’t sir but, sorry for intruding, Ned told me to keep an eye on you. He says you didn’t eat much ever since…”

Dewey loves Ned like a brother, and like brothers they are exasperating when they know all about your business but… “Oh, thanks.” Dewey took the tray, “Good night, where should I leave the tray afterwards?”

“Just outside the door sir, I’ll pick it up after you’re finished.” The man bowed, fucking BOWED and turned to leave.

Dewey closed the door, and as much as he wants to call and curse Ned out.. he couldn’t. Caleb and Ned were right, ever since Rosalie dumped him, he hasn’t been taking care of himself. Apart from the messy appearance, Dewey had been drinking non stop since that day and he stopped eating. Only having a bite of whatever Ned had whipped up.. Not only had his friend tell him to go on vacation, his kids chastising him, Rosalie dumping him but Ned was babysitting him from another state. It was exasperating to no end but it was necessary.

“Damn you Ned.” Dewey’s hands clenched the tray causing the items on it to shake, “Fuck.”

Dewey angrily walked towards the little work desk, slamming the tray onto it. The tray of food carried a small garden salad, scalloped potatoes with a gravy like sauce and shredded beef. There was a glass of amber liquid, which Dewey took a quick whiff and it was whiskey, and a singular scoop of what appears to be vanilla ice cream in a bowl.

Dewey cursed everything as he ate; he cursed Ned, Rosalie, Patti, Horace Green and every one else associated with that goddamned school. If only he hadn’t moved in with Ned, if only he didn’t get fired from his job, if only No Vacancy hadn’t kicked him out of the band he wouldn’t be here at this shitty town spending two weeks away from something as trivial as a relationship. Dewey slammed his fist on the wooden desk, the cutlery and the glassware jumping slightly from the impact. “Fuck this,” he forcibly took off the sweater he was wearing to go back to being shirtless, he took the tray and left it outside the door as Caleb wanted, shut off the lights and went to lie on the bed. It was comfortable but it wasn’t _his_ bed.

“Fucking bullshit,” Dewey grabbed the remote and started scrolling through the channels from the television as he tried to clear his mind off of his anger towards things. Here comes The Man and screwing up every fucking aspect of his life again. There was nothing on tv which only soured his mood even further, with another grunt, Dewey settled on the news channel and pulled the covers over his head.

The dull voices of the newscasters lulled him to sleep. It can’t get any fucking worse than having to spend half a month away from the people you love. This self-isolation already is making Dewey insane. If he was able to change anything, he would be a different person. Maybe actually paying rent when people asked, maybe not manipulate a prestigious school, maybe just actually get a job like Patti had asked. It was these things that had plagued him some nights when he and Rosalie were still together..

Rosalie…

She was the perfect girl, sure she was uptight but she was goal orientated and whatever action she did, she kept the school in her mind. It was admirable, it was nothing like Dewey had ever seen before. All the girls he had one night stands with were always looking for a quick fuck. But when Rosalie and Dewey were together, he finally felt like someone finally loves the gruff and wild side. When it was just the two of them… Rosalie would dote on him, and that small side smirk before she started laughing was the cutest thing Dewey had ever seen, the way she flipped her hair whenever it got into her peripheral, how her giggles was a little snorty and how the way her eyes stared down into Dewey’s lovingly. It’s something he’s going to miss. He fell head over heels for her but he fell just as hard.

“I’m sorry, Rosalie.” Dewey whispered, quietly shedding tears, “I’m so sorry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> I have been in a HEAVY writers block for weeks and I have now just started thinking of what I want with Heart of Stone and The Ballad of Dewey Finn.
> 
> YES I KNOW WHAT A BALLAD IS, IT JUST SEEMED LIKE A GOOD TITLE OKAY?


	2. Winter River

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After being told to politely leave the room after two days of self-isolation, Dewey, at the behest of Caleb, leaves the hotel to explore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright! The second chapter of The Ballad of Dewey Finn is LIVE!

Dewey stayed cooped up in his room for the next two days, laying unmoving from the bed. He was pretty damn sure the bed foam was embedded with Deweys ass and scent… there wasn’t anything good on TV too. To fight off the incoming boredom: Dewey spent the time sleeping, checking some work emails which he wasn't supposed to do and drinking. Obviously he would leave the confines of the smelly but comfy bed to relieve himself and to retrieve the food that Caleb left in front of his room.

At first it was a little strange, Caleb woke up extra early each morning to drop off food for him and the other patrons of the hotel at 9 AM. It was the typical All-American breakfast fair: bacon, sausage, eggs, and buttered toast. Then at Noon, another knock and there would be another meal prepared. Dinner came at 7 PM..

It was a small routine that Caleb established in the three days that Dewey had been here and the food he made was always delicious. Annoying as it was though at first, Ned was absolutely right. He _needed_ this vacation. Dewey had a tendency to get self-destructive. He might be a grown ass man but he had his flaws. Patti called him childish, strangers found him odd, Rosalie thought he was unhinged, No Vacancy thought him to be eccentric and egotisitcal and all the parents of the children he taught thought him to be very stupid and dull-witted. 

Of course, they weren’t wrong. Dewey is brash, unfiltered, stubborn and narrow minded when it comes to the things he loves. Dewey would do anything to strum and play, shredding axes and diving straight into a chanting crowd. He’s naive at best but that’s him, he loves what he does and his students loved him for it. His childlike nature was the thing that Rosalie fell for….

“Fuck.” Dewey’s mind drifted to her again. He doesn’t want to think about it. _About her_. Even trips to the liquor store and downing several cheap whiskey bottles hasn’t dampened out the memory of Rosalie in his head.

“Sunovabit-“

Dewey’s cell phone started ringing. It was Ned… Again.

Everyday since Dewey’s arrival, Ned had tried to reach out to him over his cell phone. And when Dewey didn’t pick up, Ned would spam his voicemail. Ned must’ve had left at least 20 of them in the past 36 hours. Every time Dewey would check his phone, there was always a new one sitting right on the notification screen. He tried listening to some of them but it made him feel bad.

 **_*BEEP*_ ** _Hey, it’s Dewey Finn. I can’t answer the phone right now… Too busy ROCKING OUT! Please leave a message after the guitar riff, WEEEEE-_

 **_*BEEP*_ ** _Hey D it’s Ned, I heard you got to your hotel safe. Please take care of yourself for me, if not for me then do it for the kids. The kids miss their teacher, they always ask for updates and so far I’ve told them that you were enjoying your vacation writing new songs for the band. These kids admire you Dewey, I don’t know how you did it but you’ve managed to change them. Call me when you get the chance._ **_*BEEP*_ **

Dewey left it unanswered and didn’t call back.

 **_*BEEP*_ ** _Hey D it’s Ned, I hope you got my message. I mean of course you did, it went through to voicemail. Are you taking care of yourself? Caleb has been cooking and sending you meals?_ Dewey could hear Ned sigh on the other end. _I know this isn’t the best place to be right now, all alone in a hotel room.. Call me back, I would like to talk._ **_*BEEP*_ **

**_*BEEP*_ ** _Hey D it’s Ned. Dewey? Buddy? D-Man? Are you doing alright? I know you’re listening to these. Just… whenever you’re ready, call me back okay? Caleb told me you haven’t left the room ever since you got there. At least I know you’ve been eating.. Dewey, the kids… for the past two days all they ask about is you and what the next big project will be… Tomika even asked me if you were going to come back. I assured her that you are but the look on her face.. Dewey it was hard to see that smiling face contort. If you have the chance today Dewey, please call. I’ll have my phone on all day. And if you call during school hours, I’ll put it on speaker so the kids can say hi._ **_*BEEP*_ **

Dewey let all subsequent calls go straight to his answering machine. He didn’t want to listen to any other messages that were left either. It made him feel worse.

It’s not like Dewey wanted to ignore them but… after you think you finally found someone after so many years of loneliness and meaningless one night stands and have that special person dump you, feels like someone ripped your heart out and stomped it into the curb. 

Dewey attempted to strum something on the axe but strangely… the music wasn’t there. There was no drive, no fire, no spark of musical ingenuity to write something spectacular. Two days before, Dewey had a fit of musical passion and wrote like a madman but now there wasn’t any. There was no musical flow in his heart and in his head. Nothing flowed and nothing made sense. The chords didn’t work, the lyrics were progressively getting shittier and shittier and his B string snapped. It was so painstakingly similar to that one film that Rosalie had him watch so many months ago.

He was about to get up and get the replacement string from the guitar case until a knock from the door stopped him in his tracks. Dewey groaned.

Is it already 7 PM? It felt way too short in comparison to the day before. He was not in the mood to deal with Calebs cheerful demeanor. He looked over to the digital clocks.

It wasn’t even 5 yet.

“Mr. Finn? Sir, are you awake?” Caleb’s voice came from the door. “Can I ask a favour of you?”

 _A favour?_ Dewey sluggishly got up from the bed and threw on the same sweater whenever he needed to pick up the food from Caleb.

“Just a moment,” Dewey pulled the door open to see Caleb beside a man with a cart.

A cleaning cart.

“Ah, Mr. Finn! How do you do?” Caleb smiled brightly but his nose twitched..

“Fine.” he responded, deadpan. 

“Of course, but would it be possible if we clean your room? We haven’t gotten a chance to ever since you arrived.” Caleb regarded the man beside him, “Francis can clean up for you while you can go out and explore the town.”

Dewey took a deep breath, “Did Ned ask you to do this or are you asking me to?”

Caleb's smile faltered and his eyes nervously darted side to side, “Uh.. uhm..”

Dewey sighed, “I’ll take a quick shower and get out of your hair.”

He spent no more than five minutes in the bathroom, not bothering to towel himself off. A shirt that read ‘Maggot Death’ was callously thrown on underneath a green hoodie, he went commando underneath some jeans again and wore mismatched socks. He gathered his wallet, phone and keys and gestured to the open door for Francis to do his cleaning. 

It was the first time he left his room in days. The hallway towards the main entrance was short but was well decorated. Red carpet with intricate patterns and the walls were a subtle beige and it was very well lit. The foyer was not the fanciest but it gave you more of a ‘welcome home’ type of vibe rather than a ‘welcome to a hotel.’ 

A rush of cool air brushed Dewey’s face as soon as he left. It wasn’t cold per se but Dewey could feel the chill of the oncoming night. A mist had appeared upon the town but the sun was still out, disappearing behind the blue tones of the evening. It was almost relaxing… 

He looked to the hotel and found it was situated up on quite a massive hill, it overlooked some parts of the town but more hills overshadowed the others. They weren’t steep hills but there were plenty of slopes. The houses, surprisingly were quite large, at least two stories and what seems like a connecting basement below the main floors. 

Dewey took a quick survey of the place, it was actually a charming looking hotel. Although the building did look a little old-fashioned and some of the paint was chipping exposing the red brick underneath, that didn't stop how deceitful for onlookers since this old building held a really nice interior. It was no Holiday Inn or Marriott but this independent one was miles better than some of the popular hotels he had stayed at previously.

He took a deep breath and walked down the hill to check out the nearby play park that was a couple meters away. He could probably squat there for two hours until Francis had finished tidying up his room. Not the soundest of ideas, considering his beard had grown back fairly quickly and he didn’t choose the best of clothes.. He looked like someone down on his luck and seemed to come to this park to sleep for the night.. not the best thing to see when night is about to fall. Thankfully during the trip here the sun had dipped lower on the horizon, meaning that most children and their mothers were gone by the time Dewey showed up.

When he arrived, he situated himself on a bench. There were a couple stragglers, mostly teenagers who hung around skipping curfew and doing whatever they like. Drinking, smoking and other stuff. Not a shabby looking park too but the swings swung loosely at the slightest touch by the wind. Another structure, where the slides and other climbable ladders and nets were held, were made of wood. Splintering at the edges and appearing slightly dangerous at first glance. The park has seen better years but it was well loved. Shuttlecocks and other sports related tools littered the fields along with beer cans and butt ends of cigarettes and blunts.

He can hear the rabble of teens gossip about their escapades with their overbearing families and equally shitty lives at school, endlessly bitching about how they are getting the short end of the stick while the adults and other grown-ups are treating them like maggots. Dewey stared at them and unfortunately one teen caught him.

“Hey nutcase, if you want some entertainment call the local prostitute.” the teen then posed suggestively and then spoke in a sweet voice, "Oh, see something you like?"

Dewey glared but turned his gaze back to the ground.

The teens roared again, sarcastically telling the speaker that he was a douche but keeling over once more with another round of laugher.

Dewey pulled out his phone. The clock reading not even half past 5.. A sigh escaped his lips as he unlocked the phone to see what other messages Ned had left him...

There were only two.

He tried not to be disappointed by the lack of messages but it rubbed him the wrong way. Dewey had no reason to feel that way, considering he had been getting calls nonstop. He hovered over the delete button to empty the messages outright from his voicemail but something told him that he needed to open and listen to them.

 **_*BEEP*_ ** _Hey, it’s Dewey Finn. I can’t answer the phone right now… Too busy ROCKING OUT! Please leave a message after the guitar riff, WEEEEE-_

 **_*BEEP*_ ** _Hey D, I’ve got someone on the line here!_ Dewey heard giggles in the background. _What do you guys have to say?_

 _We miss you Mr. Finn!_ A chorus from prepubescent children called out from the phone and Dewey couldn’t help but smile a little as he heard his kids greet him over the line.

 _Gimmie that!_ A high shrill voice cut in and some movement of the phone.. Dewey took a lucky guess that meant someone had swiped the phone. _Mr. Finn I expect a full bounce back from this._ Sounds like Summer had commandeered the call from Ned’s hands. No doubt that the substitute teacher was appalled by the audacity of the young girl. _As the band manager I cannot have one of our front people not at their best. It’s not good for the morale of the band. We are also missing some of our cords for one of the amps, an order has been placed but we needed confirmation from you to see if we bought the right cords. Katie sometimes gets confused. I'll postpone the cord order until your two weeks away are over. I’m taking the phone with me for a minute._ Summer turned the phone away. _Control the band._ Dewey assumes she was talking to Ned. There were groans of protest however that was immediately quelled by Summer’s scary stern look.

It took a couple seconds but after a door was shut, Summer spoke again. _Mr. Schnee- I mean Mr. Finn, we are all very worried._ Summers’ authoritative tone had subsided. _We have waited for a response for days and when we got nothing, rumours started spreading about you and Ms. Mullins.. How you treated her poorly and how she experienced infidelity spread like wildfire around the school._

Dewey froze. No way Dewey was like that. Dewey always doted on Rosalie, he loved her. Did she spread rumours about him? Was she faking her love during the latter part of their relationship? It couldn’t be.

 _We don’t believe them, don’t worry._ Summer calmly reassured. _Luckily for us, she didn't' leave yet. She was making one last adjustment before she went... that is until_ Freddy _kicked Ms. Mullins’ door open again. He screamed at her to not spread lies. As you would expect, Ms. Mullins was appalled that rumours had spread and swiftly called the staff for a board meeting after school that day. Turns out that one of the faculty had started them and were quickly reprimanded. You wouldn’t believe who it was, it was Mr. Brown!_ Summer softly laughed. _Apparently he started spreading them because he was frustrated that you got his name wrong all the time and how you managed to make a smooth connection with us... Not bad for a rockstar._ Dewey could hear her smile. _Mr. Finn these are just rumours don’t take it too hard._ She continued without wasting a breath. _We took a hit online over on social media too, massive waves of direct messages have harassed us. The band also received tons of emails saying that we were harbouring an infidelic, pardon my French, asshole who was unworthy to teach at Horace Green._

Dewey sucked in a sharp intake of breath. He wasn’t even gone for a week and the band was getting shit because of him? Hate mail this early on in their career? These were just kids! Dewey could handle all the doubters, hipsters and the haters but they were too young to experience this. The constant influx of comments from unsavoury individuals saying cruel things at an age where self-reflection and self-love not considered a possibility will harm these kids. Dewey is going to have to make a public statement about all the rumours when he gets back, no doubt he’s going to hire a PR manager..

Dewey clenched his fists. Again, here he was watching the world around him crash down on the people around him. No Vacancy, The job at the record shop, Patti, the scam of Horace Green….

**His relationship with Rosalie.**

_Mason has already dealt with the emails and the trolls._ Summer cut through his thoughts. _He has a way with computers, he’s smart. Smarter than we thought he was. Mr. Finn._ Summer switched back to that tone of voice from earlier. _Don’t worry about us too much, we’re doing alright. When you come back however you’ll have to talk to Tomika. She has since gone back to her quiet place. As manager, I’ll try to do my best to get her back. We’ll be fine. Summer out._ **_*BEEP*_ **

Even though Summer’s voice had that no room for argument tone, she still had a way to make sure that every word was meaningful and punctuated properly. After all that though, Dewey still couldn’t help himself from thinking that he had let the School of Rock down. That his failures and misdoings had impacted everyone around him for the better.

His phone had buzzed again, reminding him that there was another message still yet to be heard.

He pressed play.

 **_*BEEP*_ ** _Mr. Finn?_

It was Rosalie.

 _Dewey, it’s me._ Dewey quickly shuffled through his call logs, he had missed a call from her. _Hi.._ An awkward pause. _Uh, my goodness I don’t know what to say. Well maybe I could start with one of your students, Freddy. He kicked open my door the other day. It’ll be in your best interest to talk to him, I don’t want any of the children thinking it’s a wonderful idea to kick people’s doors open unannounced, it’s unprofessional and an insult to adults-_ She choked and started coughing, followed by a gulp of water and a loud sigh. _I’m sorry, that’s not what this call was meant for. There have been rumours Dewey, unkind and unfair ones that talked about you specifically._ Dewey found himself clenching his fists around the phone, ready to smash it if she ever admitted to spreading one horrible rumour about him. He knew that it was Mr. Brown but it all couldn’t be exclusively from him. _Dewey…_ She hesitated.

This was it. He was going to give her a mouthful if she says one bad thing-

 _I want you to know that everything that we shared was real. Nothing was ever faked and I truly loved you with all my heart. We had our rough moments but we pulled through and nothing ever took my focus away from you._ Dewey could hear Rosalie’s smile. _I know I’m the last person you wanted to hear but I am still here for you whether you want me to or not. I am still your blooming rose Dewey, I still love you. I do. You’re a find, a catch! And surprisingly, a very gifted bowler! That was shocking to learn.. but we can’t be together, Horace Green.. My job has to come first. I know that isn’t the best thing to say to you but…_ Dewey can hear the hesitation. _You were an absolutely amazing partner and I wouldn’t change that for the world. What we had was truly special. I hope and wish for us both that someone will come into our lives again and bring us both joy, laughter, sadness, anger and love that we want in our lives._ Dewey could hear her sniffle there. _A lot of people are out there. I’m sorry that I wasn’t the right one. Maybe we can go out to that pub again or somewhere that has an open mic and sing our feelings away again or maybe we could mix my classical and your rock to collaborate on something amazing!_ _I’ll see you when you get back, stay safe Dewey._ ** _*BEEP*_**

A sniffle was heard. Wait, was it him who sniffled earlier? Damn it was he crying?

Dewey is not a crier. He hasn’t cried ever since he was a kid.. especially when his-

A drop of water dropped on his head.

Dewey sharply looked up from his phone and surveyed his surroundings. The teenagers have disappeared and he found that he was the only one still residing in the park.

He touched his head and felt around but there was no wet spot. However, Dewey knew better than to just rely on touch alone when it comes to rain.

Dewey sniffed the air and there it was, that musty earthy smell finally registering. Rain was coming and from what Dewey could see in the clouds and the smell in the air, it was going to be a heavy rainfall.

As he was thinking about his first move, a flash of light made him flinch, dropping his phone.. Dewey cursed himself for not checking the weather before he left, having an umbrella would’ve been a fantastic idea and he was not going to trek up back up the hill to drip all over Caleb’s hotel and Francis’ hard work.

He could wait it out under a tree but he wouldn’t bet on staying too dry before a cab arrives so he might as well trunk up in a temporary shelter so he can dry himself off a little.

There was a house that he spotted on the way here and Dewey could ask if he could stay on the porch until a cab could pick him up.

Dewey stomped around in contemplation, he couldn’t make up his mind on what to do. Should he wait underneath the tree? Should he take a chance to run to the house? The more he delayed, the rain started falling faster and harder.

Dewey looked to the road leading to the house, it was slowly becoming more wet as the multiple holes and crevices got filled with water.

He sighed in resignation as he turned in the direction of the house. He could feel it soak through his hood as he walked.

He’s going to have to take a long shower when he gets back to the hotel to avoid smelling like a wet dog for the rest of the day.

The walk was uneventful.. There were a lot of people jogging about in the rain casting Dewey a worried and judgemental glances. Dewey continued trudged on however, the faster he got out of this rain, the faster he could get to the hotel clean and into bed.

Dewey found the house he was looking for, it wasn’t a far walk, taking just about a couple minutes. The driveway was gravel and poorly maintained. A lone tree with its tire swing dangling by a thread on one of its branches. The house, Dewey thinks, was supposed to be an off white colour, classic victorian in architecture with some of its original design still peeking through its modern renovation.

Good thing he went to college for one year studying… that. 

The house itself was suspended off the ground with the garage and some exposed brick being its foundation. Two separate staircases lead to two entrances, one of what seems to be a front door on his left and the other to a small alcove with the view of the hill beside it on the right. The roof was very steep and what seemed to be a tower looming over the front door ominously. The windows were still intact but had dirtied with age. The doors were surprisingly not boarded up either.

Dewey chose to walk up the stairs on his left, timidly walking up the steps as the wood creaked under Dewey’s sneakers. He almost slipped but caught himself on the equally wet and slimy wooden hand railing. Fortunately enough, this entrance had some kind of ceiling so he could get out of the rain. He put his hood down, his hair comically laying wet and stringy on his forehead. Dewey shook his head back and forth in an attempt to shake out some of the water but it only made it worse since his hair was poking at his eyeballs.

He was a little hesitant to knock on the door. The house, now that he got close, held an unnerving and sinister atmosphere sitting in the air. It was heavy and Dewey found that it was hard to breathe in.

He couldn’t imagine being inside the house. The weight of it alone could probably crush him.

Dewey reached into his pocket to find his phone slightly soaked but he breathed a sigh of relief when it turned on. He dialled up the local cab service and waited for them to pick up.

“Winter River Yellow Cab, how may I help you today?” A male voice came through the speaker.

“Hi yes, I got caught in the rain and would like help getting back to…” Wait, Dewey actually never got the name of the hotel. “Do you know a hotel owned by the name of Caleb?”

“Caleb from Hotel River? Yeah, I know him! He let me stay in one of his rooms when I moved here!”

 _Right, small town._ “That’s him!”

“You must be new.”

“Yeah, taking a little vacation from work. Friend hooked me up.”

“Good choice on picking that place,” the guy, dubbed phone guy in Dewey’s head, chuckled, “now where would you like to be picked up?”

“Uhm…” Dewey didn’t see a number or a street name when he was walking up here, “I am at this old house, you know the sinister looking one that is just sitting here near a park?”

Phone Guy went silent, “Hello?” Dewey prodded.

“What are you doing at the old Ryder house?”

 _The old Ryder house?_ “I got caught in the rain and this place had a little shelter on the front porch…”

“That place has laid untouched for years and rumour has it that it’s haunted. No one ever goes around there, it creeps everyone out.”

Dewey looked towards the door. “Sorry, is it a bad spot?”

“Well..” Phone Guy sounded distant. “People on multiple occasions have seen someone or _something_ reside in that house for years, even before it was built. There have been numerous deaths in the area and mass graves were discovered prior to the Europeans invasion in America.” Dewey didn’t know what to take from that. “Even Native Americans avoided this area due to its negative energy, I’d be careful if I were you.” Phone Guy warned, tone serious. “But maybe next time get Caleb or someone to show you around town! Just for future reference.” Phone guy laughed, dropping the serious tone.

“Uhm, thanks.”

“My pleasure, who am I speaking to so that the driver knows who to pick up?”

“Dewey Finn.”

“Dewey Finn,” he repeated, “Like.. THE Dewey Finn from School of Rock?”

“Yeah that’s me..”

“That’s awesome! I’ve been following you ever since you headed towards New York! You and the children are amazing, you’ve got to tell me, are the instruments real? Do they play them? Are they actually playing live? No way all those kids can play the instruments at that age!”

Dewey had dealt with those questions before, he always told them that yes they are live and they are musical prodigies. At this moment however it ticked him off, he could feel himself grow angry. Being the only adult in the group, he had been approached by many newspaper journalists and magazine paparazzi hounding him with questions about having a relationship with one of the members of the band.

He was a weird person yes, but no way in the nine circles of hell was Dewey a pedophile. 

As he was about to retort about the band being live, the front door ominously opened.

“Yeah yeah,” Dewey replied, “the band plays live. When will the cab get here?”

“About twenty minutes.”

“Alright thank you.” Dewey hung up the phone. There was something in the house there was this force, _someone_ pulling him into the foyer.

“Twenty minutes, just twenty minutes.” Dewey sighed to himself. He cautiously stepped forward, waiting for something to jump him from the other side of the door.

“Hello? Is anyone there?” Dewey called into the open door, “I have my pepper spray. I am not afraid to use it!” He didn’t bring his pepper spray, let alone own pepper spray but he hoped that it would dissuade the attacker from pouncing on him.

Dewey was no fighter but he could handle himself. His burly and soft belly could pack quite a punch.

Dewey brazenly crossed the threshold and was immediately overwhelmed with the stench of rot and decay. Dewey wretched and covered his nose and mouth by pulling his shirt over them. No light bulbs were visible and the floor was caked in dust. There was a lonely staircase leading up to a dark hallway that beheld a broken rocking chair. If that chair started rocking on its own, Dewey will absolutely go bonkers. 

If this was a horror film, Dewey would be the first victim to die in a gruesome fashion for stupidly walking into a crumbling building. He’d probably die of beheading, dismemberment or some other perverse method.

Dewey took a deep breath, he needed to keep his guard up. The windows had so much dirt on them that not much light could bleed through and he only had his phone flashlight to illuminate the darkened space.

“Hello?” Dewey called again, “If this is a prank it is not funny!”

A flash of lightning and the sound of thunder made Dewey flinch. It sounded close. “Just the rain, the lightning and thunder. It’s fine, we’re fine.” Dewey spoke to himself in an effort to calm himself down.

His breathing started to quicken and Dewey felt like he was starting to panic. He had to give himself a mental shake before continuing on, “Why am I in here? This is how people die.” There was this weird pull from the pit of his stomach that was propelling him forward and that is making him stay to explore this house. It’s very similar to how someone watches a horror film. You want to run from the horror but can’t because you are frozen with fear.

The house groaned underneath his feat as Dewey neared the staircase, Dewey rested his hand on the handrail to quickly turn his phone on to check how long he had been in the house.

It had only been five minutes.

Time moves slower when you’re scared. Dewey looked to the front door that was still open, slowly swaying from the wind. He contemplated leaving or to continue exploring the house…

He chose to leave.

Dewey geared himself towards the door but after another flash of lightning, the door slammed shut. “No!” He ran towards the doorknob. “Nononono don’t do this to me.” Dewey tried to turn the knob but it wouldn’t budge. “This door did not just close on me,” he slammed against the door with his shoulder. “It was just the wind and the doorknob is obviously rusted.”

A piercing laugh echoed in the foyer. A deep, bellowing one. “Welcome, welcome, welcome! Looks like you’ve got yourself in a sticky situation.” A voice came from behind him, a growly tone that shook his core.

Dewey froze, did someone enter the house when his back was turned? He tried to turn but his hands were glued to the doorknob. “Please,” Dewey pleaded, “Let me go.”

“And miss out on all the fun?” Dewey could hear footsteps coming from behind. “Not unless you give me what I want?”

“Money? My wallet? Anything you want I’ll give, just let me go!” He tried turning the knob again.

“You see, I would take you up on that offer,” The steps got closer and the voice got louder. Now he tried kicking the door in an attempt to break it down. “But…” The person was definitely behind him now and when the footsteps ceased, a hand slammed itself against the door causing Dewey to yelp and shut his eyes. “I don’t want cash.”

“What are you going to do to me?” Dewey panted.

“Oh I don’t know,” the voice chuckled. Dewey could only imagine what this guy looked like, a scrawny, lanky individual towering over his 5 ft 6 inch body, “Maybe..” The person now leaned into his ear and Dewey could hear him sniff Dewey's hair. “Dig my nails into your flesh, hear you scream until you pass out. And that screaming part?” Dewey opened his eyes to find the hand slowly going up his arm. “I love it when they scream.”

Dewey turned his head to get a look at the person behind him. A creepy guy wearing a black and white striped suit grinned devilishly from ear to ear.

“Boo.”

He screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like we are finally introduced to our gross friend. Hey BJ!
> 
> Both Dewey Finn and Betelgeuse are similar in stature to Alex Brightman... obviously.. I wonder what that will ensue :3


	3. His view

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How did he get here?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright I am very lazy when it comes to Heart of Stone... I have the entire plot in my docs and computer but I am just more emotionally invested in The Balled of Dewey Finn, so for now most of my updates will be on this fic.
> 
> Heart of Stone is not abandoned but will be on hiatus for awhile..
> 
> I am so sorry! Heart of Stone will return!

It would be a direct insult to his face if you told him he was casted out.

Suspended until further notice? Yeah, that is the proper term he should be labeled with and needless to say he was damn proud of it. 

His involvement with the Great London Fire of 1666 was something that he reveled in. His green hair was covered from all the soot and ashes from the buildings while he writhed in pleasure from the screams echoing up and down the block. Sometimes, he can still see the fires as clear as day; women and children clinging onto each other, holding onto as many belongings they salvaged as the men grabbed water buckets in an attempt to fight the fire. 

But he made one fatal error that landed him in trouble with the Neitherworld council.

He was _seen_.

It was unbelievable at first, there were a lot of times where he was with humans by their bedside or with multiple humans at once. It was complete and utter bullshit..

He was with this one chick before being abruptly pulled into the Neitherworld. His drawers hung around his ankles as he was summoned before the council and his mother in glowing gold chains and a muzzle. He didn’t bother to struggle, gold chains are Holy.. They’re hard to break out of. 

He glanced up to see Juno and the council frowning at him. A quick gavel hit on the stone caught his attention as the judge reminded him of the stern warnings he gave time and time again that the human world and the Neitherworld should stay separate. The council did say that the Neitherworld denizens, Newly-Deads and other entities were free to visit their loved ones and/or ancestors and contractors on special occasions such as birthdays and other holidays but they should remain hidden as much as they could. If a newly-dead or a Neitherworld denizen accidentally hits something off a bookcase or off a table then it would be written off as an accident but too many of them coincidentally on the same day every year? That could earn suspicion from the council.

Again, if living people found out about the afterlife was not what they thought, it would be… catastrophic.. Not just for the human world but for the Neitherworld too. They only must know until they have passed because then it won’t be a huge problem and there is no risk of them accidentally exposing the existence of the Neitherworld. Routine hauntings are allowed, but that would require proper documentation and paperwork for the Bureaucracy of Haunting Affairs.

If someone were to manage that feat, repeatedly letting themselves known to the public… well the council would cast them aside to the Lost Souls Room.. where they would moan and groan for the rest of eternity. Slowly becoming a wailing husk while the world lives on.

Another hit of the gavel snapped him back to the courtroom but he didn't miss much. The judge was giving the same lecture as before and at this point, he had heard it so many times that he was reciting the judge’s words in his head.. If he were cast to play this judge in a stage play or film, he would have nailed it down to a T of how boring his monotone, slow voice was.

After 45 mins of that, they finally told him the reason why he was summoned here that day.

Apparently he was dancing nearby a burning building when a man screamed and threw a rock at him. He didn’t pay any mind of course since most of the time when humans ‘allegedly’ see ghosts, they would be tried for witchcraft and the entire town would lynch the individual and would either burn, boil or continuously torture them to drive out their wickedness and embrace the Lord. However, not this time. The man was of Noble birth and with his status and money, influenced the entirety of London and well… his mother and the Neitherworld council came to the conclusion that he was dangerous and needed to be controlled. It was one thing to haunt and meddle into human affairs but to be seen and have multiple eye witness accounts of being seen? That’s a different story.

His mother was not happy after he was released from the chains. She scolded him, beating him with her words as usual. When she realized he wasn’t listening, she sent him off; suspending him from the Neitherworld to a random location in the world where he could cause the least amount of chaos.

That’s how he came to the ‘New World’ or rather what the colonists called it: ‘New England’. He definitely scoffed at that.

He hated it but unbeknownst to the council and his mom, there were loopholes in how they phrased their words and he exploited them for years. Technically he wasn’t scaring people off for self-satisfaction… it was more like getting revenge on the entire human race for cursing him to be among the fleshy douchebags. The Indigenous tribes that used to roam this area never came back after he started killing some of the local flora and fauna in the area, leaving the land barren and dry.

When the settlers, or rather invaders, set foot in this area, they tried to resuscitate the land and to raise families, animals and an entire settlement.

Needless to say that didn’t work out due to his presence, scaring the religious zealots out of the hills and into whatever settlement they planned on having next. Dressing up and feigning to be their interpretation of ‘Satan’ was unique and frankly something that he hasn’t done before. Sure, when he still had his haunting grounds in Europe, everyone was afraid of the same thing. Now that religion had taken a turn to more of a… up for interpretation kind of approach, he could transfigure himself to anything, or anyone.

Again, revenge on humans.

Has he been lonely this entire time? Yes.

Would he take it back? No.

If there was a chance, would his mother treat him properly? Fuck no.

Juno, in all of her high and mighty bitchy ego, is a straight up monster. The demoness never cared and always left him to fend for himself. His food, his shelter, the very clothes on his back were earned by stealing, extortion, lying and a lot of torture. He was always the last thing on her mind and when she did see him, she would rip him a new one, throwing multiple insults his way and telling him he was a waste of air and space. Not like it mattered anyway, dead people don’t need to breathe.

Demons are more parasitic when it comes to their contracts and other businesses in the human world. They have to go through a lengthy screening process when it comes to going to and from the human world. They have a different governmental body to preside over Demonic affairs.

Being the son of a demon had its perks. He inherited all her powers: possession was a given, voice impersonation, supernatural strength, tentacles and tendrils (that were black and white striped), teleportation, object manipulation, phasing through walls, ability to make clones of himself, muteness and many more. There was a trick that he pulled off once but that gave him a special detention in the Neitherworld. Apparently assuming one's demonic form was very frowned upon due to the multiple incidents that made demons lose control and accidentally leak the existence of the Neitherworld.

His father on the other hand? Never seen him or heard of him. Nor does he know what powers he inherited. Juno said he was a lesser being and made a mistake, which was a very fun thing to find out that your entire existence is chalked up as a mere “accident”. Although there’s always the sneaking suspicion that Juno had done something that led up to his disappearance but over centuries of pining over his missing father, he forgot everything about him. Let alone bothering to search or even sparing a thought.

Plus haunting this plot of land for hundreds of years makes you feel bitter about everything.

What he loved about the loophole the most though, was that the Neitherworld council never took in consideration how skeptical humans could be in terms of the supernatural and the afterlife. The multiple paranormal investigators and brave, or rather foolish, teenagers barrelling in hope to catch a glimpse of the entity that resides in this house made him laugh. No one has caught him ever since and the Neitherworld council never tried to correct him. 

Even though he had a little cave that was nearby, he chose to live in this house when a high class Victorian Era woman built the property and her family moved in.

At first, he was desperately trying to get them out by amping the scare factor, but the Victorian woman? She was deaf… and also _blind._

He couldn’t do a thing! 

At first he watched from the shadows, only making minor appearances that made little to no impact. He attended some of the tutoring sessions that the maid gave to the eldest son and enjoyed learning about etiquette, history, basic forms of arithmetic, religion and writing. Although his comprehension was that of a rubbish bin, he still learned the basics and was beneficial to him. Not only did he learn but he enjoyed it and for the first time, he was interested in the world around him.

However that didn’t last long.

Over the years, he had become attached to this family, watching them from behind curtains, under beds, closets and even the rooftop when they would go on daily trips to the town. He even had someone who could see him. A young boy, no doubt the youngest child of the family of 6. It was this boy that he had a close bond with. They would play together, learn together and watch the rain fall from his bedroom window when it rained. The boy was very wise to say that this friend was imaginary. The demon didn’t really want others to know.

It was a quiet existence, fun and full of laughter.

Then the American Civil War began.

How fickle humans are with their political beliefs that led them to massacre themselves to justify their misguided morals. For most of the war, Winter River remained untouched but when the confederates pushed past and made it to the White House, the family matriarch forced the family to move out of fear that they were going to be shot by Robert Lee’s men.

The family never owned slaves but that didn’t stop her from packing the bags.

They disappeared that night and never returned.

He woke up that morning with silence weighing heavily among the abandoned buildings of the town.. After all these years with noise all around him, all the fauna that he didn’t kill ceased in their singing.

It had never been that quiet before. Even when he was alone, the local fauna chirped, barked and howled every day and night without fail. But that day it was so quiet and there he sat on the front porch, waiting decades for the family to return.

And they never did.

But that’s life, he told himself. Life is hard, life’s full of strife caused by human error, life deserves to fade into nothingness and into the void of the Neitherworld. He remembers chuckling at that. He bitterly laughed at how these humans would be in for a surprise when all their prayers for forgiveness are for naught as they show up to the Neitherworld looking for their “God”..

He didn’t mean to sound that bitter but after a year and a half of joy of having someone seeing you and interacting with you, it fills you with dread and hopelessness.

When the Civil War ended, the rumours of how unsafe the area that he had inhabited returned.

Again he was alone, invisible to the world. No one even tried to move back into the property.

Back to the routine of isolation and scaring off any person who comes near his grounds.

He watched the house decay before his very eyes. The beds held bugs and were crumbling underneath their poorly maintained brass frame. The walls fared no better either, over the years the colours were becoming muted as their constant exposure to the sun left them dull. Most if not all the hardwood floor started to creak with every step and the chandelier fell, leaving its husk in the dining room for all to see.

He sat there on the roof when residents started to move back into the small town. Everything was preserved pretty well and the town was restored and modernized within the year. It was really upsetting.

The house still remained untouched, no one made plans to tear it down or renovate it to move in.

And like a stone Gargoyle, he watched over the town. Haunting it from the confines of this crumbling frame.

Day after day he frightened the town from his property… well it’s essentially his property now considering no one in the town wants to go near the damn place. So he sat, scared and laughed at all the people who came into the home on a stupid dare.

Then one day, he heard a voice at the front door.

Grumbling from the rocking chair from the stairs, he walked down and stuck his head through the door and there he saw a middle aged man disheveled from the rain. 

The man looked like a wet dog, probably smelled like one too. 

Before he dipped his head back into the house to forget about this man, he did a quick double take. He had never seen this man before. Through-out the many years of haunting this space, at least every single person in Winter River has been to this house at least once in their life. And he never forgets a face. In those countless years, the citizens of Winter River have nicknamed the haunted house “ _The Ryder House_ ” which was ridiculous considering the family who owned this house was not named Ryder.

He hasn’t scared someone in a while and he was a bit dull at the edges but he could make do with scaring a new person. Has this man been avoiding this house his entire life or is this someone new who just moved into Winter River? Whatever the case may be, he might as well scare this guy off.

What should he do? Impersonate a female voice so that he could mistake it for some sort of lover? He never had that power of looking into someone’s soul but he could definitely do impersonations. However the man was on the phone so he couldn’t capture his attention.

But a door can.

“Fuck it.” He grabbed the door handle and slowly pulled the door open. To his delight, the man saw the door open.

“Twenty minutes, just twenty minutes.”

 _Just twenty minutes?_ The demon thought as he watched the man steel himself with a shake, “Hello? Is anyone there?” The man called into the door.

“Come on.. Come on…” He prayed.. “Just get through the door asshole.”

“I have my pepper spray. I am not afraid to use it!”

“No you don’t.” He smiled, climbing up to the ceiling. The demon could see the contemplation in his eyes but eventually he stepped through the doorway.

“Hook, line and sinker.” He snickered.

Good thing it was a thunderstorm outside so he could ramp up the scare.

The man turned his head this way and that, examining the house and it’s many scars and dirt littering the wooden floor. There was a glance towards the rocking chair on the top of the stairs and the demon saw the man’s face flush with white fear.

He really didn’t pull the old chair rocking back and forth on it’s own.. That trick has been used for centuries and he hated using that trick because of how boring it is.

“Hello?” the man called again, “If this is a prank it is not funny!”

“It’s not a prank.” The man whispered to himself, “Just need one small scream to satiate me for at least a week.”

Fortunately enough, thunder roared behind him causing the man to jump. In terms of distance, it sounded pretty damn close. If he had weather manipulation, like some demons do, he would’ve scared this guy out of his wits. 

“Just the rain, the lightning and thunder. It’s fine, we’re fine.” The man reassured himself.

Although that didn’t help as the man’s breath started to quicken into a panic, this is when he wanted to make another move. This human was doing all the work himself and he barely had to lift a finger. It was very enjoyable but it killed his mojo, he didn’t do anything yet! That was just the weather.

 _This guy is some sort of wimp._ The demon thought as he scurried back down to shut the door.

“Why am I in here? This is how people die.” The man whimpered.

_Not the objective today but sure think that._

The man started walking towards the staircase as the demon groaned.. He really has to pull out the rocking chair scare?

_This sunova-_

The human rested his hands on the staircase and pulled out his phone.

_Thank fuck._

The man looked towards the front door and back at his phone, standing in contemplation to continue to explore the house or leave.

Shaking his head, the man chose for the front door.

And at that moment another flash of lightning and thunder was the demons cue to shut the door.

“Nononono don’t do this to me.” The man cried out. “This door did not just close on me,” he slammed against the door with his shoulder. “It was just the wind and the doorknob is obviously rusted.”

The demon laughed and crawled to the ceiling

“Welcome, welcome, welcome! Looks like you’ve got yourself in a sticky situation.” The demon hissed, tone gravel.

The man froze, struggling with his hands to be free from the doorknob. “Please, let me go.”

“And miss out on all the fun?” The demon crept closer. “Not unless you give me what I want?” He licked his lips in anticipation.

“Money? My wallet? Anything you want I’ll give, just let me go!”

“You see, I would take you up on that offer,” He walked closer and was practically at his back. “But…” he slammed his palm against the door causing the man to yelp. “I don’t want cash.”

“What are you going to do to me?” He tried wrestling the handle again.

“Oh I don’t know,” the demon soothed, “Maybe..” He leaned into his ear and took a quick sniff off this man’s hair. A little musty, smells definitely like a wet dog. “Dig my nails into your flesh,” he slowly ran his palm on the arm, “hear you scream until you pass out. And that screaming part?” He grinned devilishly, “I love it when they scream.”

The man slowly turned around.

“Boo.”

The demon watched the man scream, saw his eyes roll into his head and fell in an undignified heap of clothing and limbs.

“Woohoo! That was good,” he rubbed his nipples and melted, “Ahh screams, the best thing that humans provide.” Snapping his fingers, the man on the floor’s hands were released from the doorknob and fell unceremoniously by his side. “Not my best work but no one has come by in a while so I think I could get some leeway. Now let’s get a look see.” He saw the man on the dusty floor pale with fear. Obviously the man had fainted and it would be a couple minutes until he woke up.

The man on the floor was definitely middle aged, had a scraggly beard, ugly.. VERY ugly clothing and about the demons size when he is using his human form. “Hmm.. Not bad looking but everyone is not a looker these days.”

He probably has a few minutes to kill before someone realizes he’s not where he should be. Shrugging, the demon dug through the man's pocket and pulled out the driver's license to try to read and identify the man currently on the floor.

Dewey Finn.

5 ft 6”.

33 years old, 150 lbs with brunette hair and deep dark brown eyes. Credit cards galore, debit cards, business card for the place he worked at, social security number and a random photo of himself and a woman. Nothing interesting to dig up about. No dirt. NO NOTHING. This guy was as legal as Clarence Thomas, there was nothing! Cash is something he couldn’t use and his phone… don’t get him started on the phone because he doesn’t understand modern human technology.

Nothing was interesting about the man and he chalked it up as something he doesn’t need to know and stuffed the wallet down his pants.

He checked his nails and was completely unbothered by the situation that was presented to him. Not all humans faint but it was certainly entertaining. There was nothing that could stop him from devouring the body in front of him but people would start to ask questions and no doubt the council would be after him. He confined himself to wait and not make subsequent appearances until this man wakes up.

No way in all the hells that he wouldn’t be caught with another mortal at his feet.

“Mr. Finn!”

Oh well that is perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	4. The Margins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mind drifts, the mind dreams, the mind foresees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew alright cool..
> 
> Work has been definitely given me grief in terms of freedom. Who loves being an adult? cause I sure don't.

_ A distant call. _

_ One of love. _

_ I pray thee not fall. _

_ Guide me, clouds above. _

_*_

_“Dewey, time for dinner!”_

_Dewey happily got off his bike and trotted towards the house, cautiously stepping around the toys littering the yard as if they were traps, bombs and holes and ever the brave adventurer, Dewey hopped over them with great, ungraceful skill._

_Dewey threw open the door to his house and proudly stomped in. Their home was really more of a shack than a house but to Dewey, it was his castle and in that castle, he reigned gloriously along with his mother and where his evil father rotted in the cells._

_“Mummy!”_

_“Yes dear?” Dewey’s mother's eyes sparkled as she turned her attention to the young boy with love in her wrinkles. Mrs. Finn was a lanky woman, cheeks sunken from the lack of food but still holding that motherly energy and love radiating from every pore. “Did you find something outside?”_

_“No, but I finally rode my bike without my trainees!”_

_“My baby is growing up!” His mother’s features softened further, eyes lighting up in excitement and brunette hair sliding over her shoulder “Eventually you’ll stop being my wonderful baby boy,” she raised her hand dramatically to her head, “What will I ever do without my baby boy?”_

_“I’ll still be your baby boy mummy!” Dewey ran to hug his mother’s legs, “Forever and ever!”_

_“Forever is a long time,” She peeled her son's arms away so she could give a proper hug, “Now Dewey,” she said after a minute, “why don’t we clean up and eat some dinner before you show me you riding without your training wheels? How does that sound?”_

_“Okay mummy!”_

_*_

Dewey is falling.

Doesn’t know where he is.

Doesn’t know why he’s here but all that he knows is that he’s falling.

“------”

_*_

_“Dewey get back here!”_

_Dewey ran from his father as fast he could, clutching the tub he had taken from the laundry room against his chest. His father wasn’t good at hiding it but Dewey was not good at being discreet either. Leaping over shoes, the couch and his fathers grasp, Dewey ran to the stairs to escape._

_“Dewey Michael Finn get over here or God help me I will see that you won’t cry no more!”_

_Dewey wiped away the swell of tears as he clumsily ran up, “No!” Dewey called._

_“I want it back! Give it back!”_

_“No, you’re not getting it back!” Dewey reached the top and immediately swung right towards his mothers room. She was at work for the day and was left alone with his father and Dewey did not like it one bit._

_“Don’t you dare go in there!”_

_Dewey reached his mothers room when his dad reached the top, slamming the door and locking it by latching the bolt onto its place and pushing on the doorknob. “No more Daddy, no more!”_

_“Give me the tub boy!” A slam hit the door loudly causing the boy to yelp and tumble away, “Open the door this instant!”_

_“No! I want my mummy!”_

_Dewey climbed onto the bed to hide while his father hit his fists against the frame over and over again._

_“I’m going to break down this door!” Dewey’s father threatened._

_“You can’t afford a new door!” the boy shot back. “You can’t afford anything! Not a new door, not a new window that you broke, you can’t afford to fix the holes in the wall either! You can’t even afford to buy food! You’re a lazy sack of shit and Mummy is the one who does the things that you don’t wanna do! I hate you!”_

_Dewey’s father ceased his assault on the door only to release a guttural roar, it was a good thing his mother saved enough money to fortify her door and wall. “You little shit! How dare you speak to your father that way! When I’m through with you, you will never wish you were born. Ingrate! Bastard! I wish I never had you!”_

_“I don’t care!” Dewey cried, “I want my mommy! She loves me unlike you! I wish you would just leave like you’ve always wanted!”_

_*_

No sound.

No smell.

Just the void.

“De--”

_*_

**_It's in the way that you use it_ **

**_It comes and it goes_ **

**_It's in the way that you use it_ **

**_Boy don't you know_ **

_Dewey turned the volume dial up from the Walkman he was given as a gift that Christmas to block out the sound of yet another argument coming from the hallway._

_As the attentive student his mother wanted him to be, he was working on his homework when his father swore and screamed at his mother indicating that another argument was spurring in between him and his spouse._

_He was ten years old now and each year the arguments would get louder and louder. All of them with the same topic in mind: Dewey. His father would complain on how Dewey was just another mouth to feed and should be given up for adoption while Dewey’s mother would bite back at him with that her boy won’t be going anywhere because she knew how horrible the foster care system was. It was back and forth, only ending when Dewey’s father slammed the front door._

_Whenever that argument or any other small thing that blows his father up, Mrs. Finn would shoo Dewey away to another part of the house to spare the boy from the hateful words that his father would call his son… but Dewey would always hear them. Dewey’s father would come to where Dewey was hiding and say the words to him while his mother tried to stop him with whatever thing she got her hands on but that didn’t really matter. The walls of the house were thin and every word that his father and mother would say Dewey heard. There were multiple occasions where Dewey's father punched, kicked, crashed and maimed a hole in the drywall making them look like part of the decor,_

_Dewey hated it, hated him._

_To rebel against his father, Dewey went back to the laundry room every day and stole the tub while also snatching a couple records to listen to in the living room. He would throw away the contents of the tub before putting the record into its player and listen to his passion: music._

_Rock music._

_Jimi Hendrix, Eric Clapton, Jimmy Page… Dewey would listen to their records for hours and sang along whenever he could. These legends... These rock_ _gods_ _Dewey admired from the other side of the record gave him an escape._

_His next dream: ‘become a rockstar.’_

**_Nobody's right till somebody's wrong._ **

**_Nobody's weak till somebody's strong._ **

**_No one gets lucky till luck comes along._ **

**_Nobody's lonely till somebody's gone._ **

_One day.. one day he’ll join them._

_Dewey snapped his pencil._

_*_

Dewey violently shook, abruptly waking him. Groaning from the pounding in his head, he reached a hand to his head in an effort to relieve it.

“Son of a whore… what happened?” He opened his eyes to see somewhere he hasn’t been before.

He wasn’t at the house but at a dark beachside. A pale sun looming over the horizon where the smell of the sea finally registered in his nostrils. Multiple jagged rocks jut out from the sea to the beach, pointed in unnatural angles while emitting an eerie bioluminescent purple. Strangely though, Dewey didn’t feel scared or nervous here.. A little unsure yes, but Dewey could feel that there was no sense of malice here.

“--nn”

_*_

_“Purple Haze all in my brain. Lately things don’t seem the same.” Dewey sang under his breath. “Actin’ funny but I don’t know why, ‘Scuse me while I kiss the sky.”_

_“Look, it’s the weirdo talking to himself again.” a girl hissed._

_“He’s so weird” another commented._

_“Let's stalk him on his way home again.” a boy snickered._

_“Sure, see ya later Doodoo Finn.” another boy called out._

_Dewey sighed, “Goddamit not again.”_

_But before he could leave, “Dewey Finn! Language!”_

_The boy turned to see one of his teachers, Mr. Freisen standing a couple feet away._

_Dewey would usually be elated to see his music teacher but now he wants to be alone._

_“Oops I didn’t mean to mean to startle yo-“_

_“I wasn’t.”_

_“O-Oh…” Mr. Freisen stuttered, “Well… Dewey I heard you singing a song earlier? Was that Jimi Hendrix I heard?”_

_Dewey shuffled in place, switching his bag to his other shoulder. “Are you going to call me weird?”_

_Mr. Freisen’s eyebrows shot up, “What? No! My dear boy, who said that?”_

_Dewey rolled his eyes, “You and everyone else in this damned school.”_

_“Language!” Mr. Freisen frowned._

_“I don’t care.” Dewey rolled his eyes._

_“Course you don’t,” The teacher sighed, “I sometimes forget how colourful you can be.”_

_Dewey wished for the man to leave so that he cut class today. He was a good student but he always chose to leave school early when Dewey heard the other students say they were going to follow him. The bullies would smack his books from his hands, call him names, give wet willies and on the special occasions swirlies. They were relentless in their childlike cruelty. On the rare occasions they wouldn’t poke at Dewey, the bullies would purposefully talk loud enough so that Dewey could hear the obscenities thrown at him. Dewey couldn’t bring his Walkman with him to school either because everyone would make fun of him for using old technology. He may be young but Dewey knows damn well not to start another fight._

_Again._

_His mother can’t drive him to another new school._

_“So..” Mr. Freisen’s voice cut through Dewey’s thoughts and pulled focus back onto him, “I’ve heard you have quite the unique music taste and your grasp of music is that of a high school student. There have been few students like you Dewey.” Mr. Freisen held out a large black case that Dewey failed to see, kneeling down to get to the boy’s height. “I have taken the executive decision, from my own wallet no less..” The teacher chuckled, “to purchase you..” The man unzipped the large case to reveal an electric guitar with red accents._

_A Gibson electric guitar._

_“What the fuck.”_

_*_

Dewey skipped rocks after some time alone.

He didn’t know what to do other than sit and listen to the world. There was an attempt to explore but after walking for a while, he ended up back at the beach. It should have induced some sort of panic or anxiety in him… however he was unperturbed by it. The beach was silent and no one else was around, so all he could do was think.

“M---”

_*_

_“No, no, no, no, no!” His drummer, Keith screamed. “You were supposed to move up the octave when John dips down the third!” Keith threw his sticks to the floor, “Dewey man, you know I’m right. Lillia is not following our direction!”_

_“Don’t bring Dewey into this!” Lillia shot back, “We’ve been at this section for hours and it’s hard to maintain a good singing voice when I’m always being corrected by you!” She pointed at Keith, “Why are you so problematic?! It sounded great!”_

_“Great is different than awesome!”_

_Dewey laid his guitar back onto its stand before departing to the other room. His band wanted to make original music for a while now but they have been arguing over this one part of the song for months and considering this was his first ever band, he took great pride in it. However, they couldn’t ground themselves with their sound._

_Sure covers were one thing and the small gigs that they did secure gave little to no exposure. They were always replaced by some other new band that rose up and they were always better somehow. Maybe they got far because of the lack of arguments._

_Keith is a smart guy and he hit the skins like no one's business but he was arrogant and narcissistic when it comes to the band. He always loved talking about himself and all conversations with him always ended up back towards him somehow._

_Lillia, the band's leading lady sang beautifully and could carry a tune like it was nothing. However being the ex-girlfriend of Keith made the band dynamic a little hectic. They broke up because of ‘artistic differences’ but in reality Keith cheated on her and that blew up out of proportion._

_Leading lady’s apparently can slash tires, who knew?_

_John, the last member of their band, is the silent member. Although his skill with the bass cannot be denied as one of the greatest Dewey has ever heard, John only shows up for band rehearsals and never tries to hang out with the band afterwards._

_Needless to say, for Dewey’s first band… it was an utter failure._

_*_

For a while, being here in this odd place, reflecting on his past made him think..

Did he really end up where he wanted to be?

His mother believed in him but is this where life has taken him?

“M—in-“

_*_

_“Dewey come on!” A girl was holding his hand as she led him through the dimly lit field, “I know a place!” There was a carnival that his home town does every year, and this year was the year Dewey could go out alone._

_Lights were strung around the tents with homemade lights made of tin cans and coloured bulbs. This was his first job as well so he spent numerous hours scrounging around dumpsters to find the tin cans necessary to hold the bulbs. It wasn’t the best job but it paid well._

_Also it did help at this moment that Dewey was drunk off his ass, he snuck one of the rum bottles his father stored in the pantry and chugged it down with some coca-cola. He was laughing the entire time as she pulled him into crowds and into the shadows. When Dewey could finally open his eyes after laughing so much, he could finally see the girl he was with in his drunken haze._

_Long and flowy beautiful brunette hair, a soft face, lovely hazel eyes and a voice full of laughter and love._

_“Marianne hold on! I’m a little crunked off my ass here!” Dewey tripped and fell to the soil with a laugh, “See what you did! I am now a DewBug!”_

_“Come on DewBug,” Marianne squealed as she helped him up, brushing off the dirt from his knees. She was wiping away the dirt from his face when she paused. “We’re close.” she said._

_Marianne reached and softly grabbed his hand to lead him past a couple more game and food tents. “Here,” Marianne tugged him underneath a very faint light and in that light she smiled sweetly. “So Dewey, what are we to do now?”_

_Dewey, in his drunken stupor, looked to her with hope in his gut. “I’m not a smooth talker Marianne, just a rockstar.” He smiled. “Although I do have a couple of ideas.” The low light just amplified the shine of her eyes, deep and dark with desire. Pupils dilated in anticipation of what to come next._

_Dewey let go of her hand and trailed his fingers towards her face. Her arm, her shoulder, and neck receiving a tender caress. He rested his hand on her cheek which the girl leaned on, “Dewey.” Her voice dropping a tone, soft and breathy. Her breathing was coming a bit faster and so was Dewey’s._

_“Marianne.” Dewey softly whimpered, inching closer to shorten the distance between them, body tingling in anticipation. “Can I…-”_

_“Yes, yes you can..” Dewey leaned forward and captured her soft lips with his._

_*_

Dewey looked at his reflection in the water.

He saw a disgruntled looking man, saddened and tired. He sighed and went back to sit on the sand, if he was stuck here… at least this place came with a nice view.

_*_

_Dewey burst through the door with papers and guitar case in hand, “Hey, guys! I’ve got some killer new material for the Battle of the Bands.” He threw his notes onto the table and presented them to the band._

_“Dewey,” Thea scowled at his name as if he were tasting something rancid, “You’re out. We’re taking the Battle of the Bands seriously this year. Meet Snake.” Thea pointed to another dude with a guitar._

_“Sup.”_

_“What?! No! You can’t kick me out.” Dewey recoiled. “I created No Vacancy!”_

_“You brought the band together,” Thea acknowledged, “and now the band wants you out.”_

_“Don’t feel bad, Dewey.” Doug reassured. “You don’t fit in. We’re all really good looking.” With that he flexed and so did the other guys._

_“Thanks for that, Doug!” Dewey snorted, “But you’ve forgotten about one little thing: The Music!” Picking up his papers he ran towards the door, “You know what? I don’t need_ _you. I don’t need any of you!”_

_*_

“---?”

Why is he here? Is this what it means to have a midlife crisis?

Maybe his father was right… he should’ve gone to work in the mines.

“----!”

_*_

_School of Rock held each other in anticipation for the announcement of the winner for the Battle._

_“And tonight’s winner of the twenty thousand dollar first prize is…” Tomika squeezed Dewey’s hand harder. “No Vacancy!”_

_“What?!” Mrs. Travis, Katie’s mother exclaimed._

_“That’s disgraceful!” Mr. Williams, one of Tomika’s fathers clutching his husband in disbelief._

_“I demand a recount!” Mr. Mooneyham, Zack’s father protested. “Come on everyone! School of Rock, School of Rock!” Mr. Mooneyham started a mob that the other parents and surprisingly the audience started chanting as well._

_“School of Rock! School of Rock!”_

_“Hey guys. Get over here. Listen up.” the students looked up,_

_“Mr. Schnee-” Tomika started._

_“No. Listen. They’re calling our name. That’s what we came here for. That’s rock and roll.” Dewey kneeled down to Tomika’s level. “And remember, no real rock star ever won anything! I’m proud of you guys, we did it.”_

_“OK! OK! By popular demand, please welcome back to the stage, the School of Rock!”_

_“Let’s give them what they want.” Dewey smiled._

_*_

“Aghh!!” Dewey keeled over in pain. “My head!”

It felt as though someone was splitting his brain in half, completely ripping neuron after neuron. It’s pain intensifying reaching excruciating levels of it.

“M----nn?!”

_*_

_“Why do you follow-?”_

_“There are no limits to what I would do to help the ones I love.”_

_*_

Dewey was tearing his hair out off its scalp to distract himself from it.

The beach… is a trap. Dewey made the wrong assumption. Despite the sound of its soothing waters, it held something dark. One that Dewey didn’t see.

A nexus of self-isolation, hateful self-reflection and doubt.

A dark margin, the end of the mind.

“Mr---!”

_*_

_A hand was holding his, a calloused hand, a face he couldn’t see, clothing that was raptured by blue fire._

_“Walk with me.”_

_“No, let’s go ho-” He heard himself say._

_“WALK WITH ME!” a harsh voice boomed in his ears._

_“You’re crazy.”_

_The hand that Dewey was holding snatched itself away as the figure walked towards the flames._

_“No, don't do it!”_

_*_

**“MR. FINN!”**

Dewey woke up with a start and bumped his forehead against another man kneeling atop him.

“Aw fuck!”

“Ow!” the stranger's hand flew to their head, “Never stand over an individual who fainted, they might wake up and bump your head. Noted.”

“Fucking christ dude! What was that for?!”

“I was trying to wake you up Mr. Finn.” The stranger offered a hand to Dewey, “You called for a taxi earlier?”

“What?” Dewey blinked. “Where am I?”

“Winter River sir,” The stranger put a hand on Dewey’s head. “Did you hurt your head sir?”

Dewey waved the hand away, “I’m fine but… I was inside-”

“Sir with all due respect I found you outside here on the porch...” the stranger cut in, “You must have fainted from.. When did you last eat sir?”

“2 hours ago."

“I see,” The man's eyes bore into Dewey’s “Mr. Finn, if you are ready I can take you back to Hotel River. The rain is getting heavier but the sky will be clear tomorrow. Maybe have a tour guide explore the town with you in case of another incident.” The man headed towards the steps leading away from the house, “The car will be up at the front.” He paused, “Another word of warning however.”

“What?”

“I’m not surprised that you were found here,” The man turned, “People who are not from this town often find their way towards this house. You aren’t the first and surely you won’t be the last.”

Dewey watched the man walk to the direction of the car and hopped in, starting the engine. The way that this stranger, the cab driver phrased that entire sentence was a little ominous and unsettling. Of course the house was strange and unusual.. but perhaps Dewey imagined the entire thing?

But that face.

That grin. Pale face, eyes sunken in similar to those of a dead person..

_That horrible laugh._

He got up slowly before following the driver to the vehicle, buckled in and departed the Ryder House. Dewey watched as the house got further away from the back window. 

The drive was short but it was shrouded by the reluctance to talk from both Dewey and the driver. Normally Dewey would joke around and make friends with everyone he met but after that… ordeal, he wants to go back to his now _clean_ room and into the shower to get the smell of rain out of his hair.

He didn’t give the driver the chance to say “have a nice night” because Dewey threw the man some cash and exited the vehicle as quickly as he could, not bothering to check if he had paid too much or too little. Dewey was not in the mood to play nice for people right now.

“Mr. Finn!” Dewey groaned as soon as Caleb saw him enter the hotel. “Mr. Finn, thank heavens you’re alright. I was about to call the cops!”

“I’m fine Caleb.I had a run in with that Ryder House that no one deemed to tell me about” Dewey scoffed and stomped away in the direction of his room.

“The Ryder House? Why were you over there?”

“Because it was raining!” Dewey irritatedly spat,, “I couldn’t risk staying in an open area and that house was the only place that had shelter. That’s when I called the cab and apparently fainted from whatever..”

“That house is notorious for-”

“Being haunted? Yeah I know, I figured out.” Dewey angrily interrupted, “The person who answered the line said so. Learned that the hard way.”

“Did you see anything there? A face? Or did you hear a laugh?” Dewey paused in his angry pursuit for his room. “So you heard.”

Dewey stayed silent.

“When I was a boy,” Caleb began, “Me and my friends were sent there on a dare to spend the night. As expected, none of us stayed for even an hour.” Dewey heard Caleb’s footsteps and some shuffling behind the service desk “It was the darkest and coldest night that summer, we were huddled close together to preserve our warmth..”

“We were hunted that night..” Caleb continued, “By something not human.” Dewey glanced over his shoulder at Caleb, now transfixed by a photo he was holding.. “Everywhere we ran, the walls seemed to swallow and howl at us boys for trespassing. The doors were all locked and even the windows seemed to have minds of their own. They… repaired themselves every single time we managed to get one of the boards loose. It was a nightmare..”

“Amidst it all, I saw a face, a pale sinister face that was grinning similar to the Cheshire Cat from the shadows. After that night, I told my mother and father what happened but they didn’t believe me.. My mother said I was seeing things and my dad nodded, affirming that what me and my friends saw was the phenomena called ‘apophenia’. The tendency to make patterns or trying to understand what I saw in the dark. He said that I wanted to see something scary, so I did.” Caleb sighed and laid the photo down onto the desk,

“Why are you telling me this?” Dewey’s back was still facing the man, “Is there a point?”

“Yes and no,” Caleb sighed, “You might have seen a face that wasn’t actually there and your brain tricked you into seeing something horrible or there is something there and no definitive proof that something sinister lies in that house, but what I’m trying to get here is that… This town is very peculiar in terms of its superstitions and laws, don’t let it get to you. Most, if not all, unusual occurrences took place around or inside the Ryder House, sometimes it is bullshit and fabrications written off by some fictitious and untrustworthy teens ready to make some unsuspecting passersby’s attention but some of them are very, very true.” Caleb’s voice deepened, as if he was issuing a threat, “I saw something that night and you might have encountered the same… _thing_ that resides in that house. A word of advice, Mr. Finn.. keep it to yourself. Not everyone is interested in ghost tales anymore.”

Then in the drop of a hat, Caleb resumed his cheerful tone, “I’ll have dinner made and brought up to you after you’ve cleaned up. Just give me a ring from the room’s phone and I’ll drop by.”

The room was indeed clean when Dewey swiped the card into the lock, fresh sheets and an aired out room really is a welcome sight to behold after a long day. His guitar was on the bed before he left but was neatly leaning against the wall.

His Gibson guitar that his teacher gave to him so long ago, of course it was a little old but it was his and Dewey kept it well maintained as best as he could. He took it to the shop a couple times but that was for other things when the red accents started to fade and when Dewey’s regular maintenance on it didn’t seem to do the trick.

_“Boo.”_

Dewey shook at the memory of the thing living in the house.

That house was old and Caleb could be right that Dewey _did_ see something because he was expecting to. It was an old house after all and with the knowledge from movies he saw, it could be the moss and dust giving him visual and auditory hallucinations. The walls were hollow enough and it was windy so everything was up in the air..

Though there was one thing that didn’t add up.. And if Dewey is remembering this correctly..

Dewey looked down to his palms and saw that some skin had peeled off.

_His hands on the doorknob._

“Shit.”

Dewey flicked the light switch to get a better look, the skin was cracked and remnants of dried blood were present. “It’s real.” Dewey checked the clock to see that it was approaching 8 PM and the rain wasn’t letting up either. If the cab driver was telling the truth, then Dewey could go back again tomorrow.

It was definitely not in character but he had to make sure.

No way it was a coincidence.


	5. You Could Use a Buddy....

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dewey returns to the house to confront whatever the hell frightened him last night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Years folks!
> 
> A new chapter of The Ballad of Dewey Finn is UPLOADED AND READY.

Dewey left the hotel before the sun rose.

It’s a little dark and chilly but Dewey was more prepared than last time. Throwing on the thickest sweater he owned, Dewey left the hotel with a fully charged phone and a fire in his gut. He made damn sure his phone was fully charged in order to use the flashlight function to illuminate the pathway to the haunted Victorian house.

He had been restless the entire night. Tossing and turning in his underwear thinking on how to approach this thing. Multiple scenarios ran through his head, should he.. Call an exorcist?

Dewey is not religious but after all this he might as well start practicing a faith.

Like the day before, water filled the potholes leading up to the house, caking his shoes and uncomfortably wetting his socks with dirty rainwater. It wasn’t the best idea to go before there was natural light but Dewey had to leave early, lest Caleb or some other hotel employee might bother or dissuade Dewey from going out in the early morning. He really likes the staff at the hotel but they can be a bit overbearing. More so than regular hotel staff at famous hotels.

Perks of being a small town with no tour attractions. Got to ramp up on the friendliness factor.

Dewey didn’t know why he was going back though. The story he heard from Caleb and his own experience with the house made him very curious about the whole haunting thing and plus Dewey needs to pepper spray the bastard for ruining his hands, he tried to strum yesterday and it fucking hurt. Maybe that’s why he needs to go back? To get revenge? Dewey is not a vengeful person by any means but he could throw hands… as the kids would say.

Dewey arrived at the crack of dawn, the house seeming entirely ordinary in the day’s first light. It could easily be mistaken for a normal house but the town, and now Dewey, knows that something malevolent sits inside its empty halls. The stairs still creaked under his shoes but the sound made was more of a squelch since his sneakers were completely soaked through but he was here again. The air, a little lighter than yesterday, is more breathable. Still heavy in terms of ambience but now the air seems a little different, relaxed even. Now Dewey knew that there was nothing in that rickety house that could surprise him, he psyched himself up. Checking that his pepper spray was still in his pocket, Dewey lifted the flashlight and opened the door with only the slightest of pressure.

Then Dewey began to gag.

Even after preparing himself for this endeavor, he forgot to bring a piece of cloth or some sort of face covering to mitigate the smell of rotting meat invading his nostrils. The smell was so overpowering that it almost made him faint again, he didn’t remember the odour being this bad. Dewey fought to keep the contents of last night's dinner down, coming to the conclusion that the rain must’ve mustered up the scent somehow. Last night, he discovered that his clothes had a thin layer of dust and dirt when he took them off too. Speaking of, Dewey could see the outline of where his body had fallen the day before. A physical imprint of Dewey’s incident here at the Ryder House. He took one more quick breath of fresh air before stepping past the doorway.

Like the night before, the rocking chair stayed put atop the staircase, sitting there unmoving. Dewey clenched at the spray in his sweater pocket and decided it would be safer to stay in the foyer to hopefully avoid any sort of maiming or disembowelment. 

Emphasis on hopefully. 

Dewey does not know what this thing wants and every step of caution is vital to gain the upper hand. Swallowing the nervousness away, Dewey brazenly cupped his hand to call for the pale faced man.

“Hello?” Dewey called, his echo bouncing of the walls, “I know you’re here. Show yourself!” A very cliché way to get killed but what else is there to say? “I can smell you!” Dewey facepalmed mentally, “I know you’re nearby!” 

Dewey slowly inched forward into the space ready to whip out the pepper spray in case of a jump. Good thing there was nothing happening with the weather, the rain and thunder from yesterday helped dip the atmosphere into hair-raising territory. However now that the weather is clear, Dewey believes he has some sort of edge but that didn’t help appease his fight or flight instinct. It was kicking into overdrive but Dewey’s determined to see this through to the end.

With luck, this won’t be _his_ end.

Nothing disturbed the house from its comatose state, only the sound of Dewey’s breathing and soggy steps were the only thing audible in the immediate area. Even though the house was relatively dry, the smell of wet, decaying wood lay underneath the smell of a decomposing body. It was quiet like before too and Dewey could only wait in anticipation for whatever comes next, taking deep breaths to help quench the uneasiness in his gut.

Being back here made Dewey shiver with nervousness, the voice he heard playing over and over in his head. If he had to compare something to that voice, it would sound like separate sheets of sandpaper rubbing against each other agonizingly slow or someone diagnosed with severe vocal nodulization. Either way, it made Dewey’s skin crawl.

A scurry from the wall got Dewey to sharply turn in the direction of the sound, hand flying to his pocket and pulling out the pepper spray. He buried his face in his sleeve, walking backwards as he pressed the top to release the spray. He let go and continued to stagger back a couple more steps before ceasing the press of the spray.

Dewey unshielded his elbow when the lack of screaming was heard...

“Boo.”

Dewey instinctively punched the man in front of him, hearing a crunch and feeling intense pain on his ring finger.

“Fuck!”

“Ow, what the fuck man?!” A familiar voice cried out in pain, “My nose!”

Dewey cradled his finger and internally kicked himself for not thinking of a better plan. On top of having skin peeling off on his hands, he hopes that his ring finger was only strained and not broken. He looked up to see who is in front of him

It’s the pale faced man.

Now that some of the morning light has come in, Dewey could finally see this guy in proper light. The man was wearing a black and white striped suit, a dirtied black and white striped dress shirt, a dirtied tie and suspenders. His clothes were falling at the seams too, multiple patches and frays were all over his blazer and pants. His hair, a wild looking green stuck out in all directions and his beard shared the same shade of green. However there was texture to it, could it be moss? There were other green splotches on the shoulder of the blazer and other parts of his face. His face was also worn too, cheeks sunken in by what seems like hunger and under bags so heavy, Dewey could probably carry them. It looks like this guy hasn’t slept since 1988.

“It’s you!” Dewey exclaimed.

“Yeah I know it’s me, for hell’s sake! Who the heaven are... wait a minute.” The guy dropped his hands, “You’re that guy from yesterday..” His nose was bleeding a peculiar greenish-brown sludge.

“That’s right and I hope you like seconds!” Dewey threw another punch, which was easily caught.

“I do like seconds and love having it very physical…” The man suggestively smiled, “Sloppy too.”

“Let me go!” Dewey struggled, “I have pepper spray!”

“Yeah okay breather, as you saw…” The pepper spray was quickly swiped from Dewey’s other hand, “This? Doesn’t really work on dead people.” The man sprayed his own face and didn’t flinch. “We don’t need to breathe, plus the whole rashes and burns? Don’t have to worry.” His now suggestive smile turned predatory, yellowed teeth and black gums now in full display, “My skin is as old as Leatherface… wait.. You can see me?”

“You’re holding me right now,” Dewey cleverly remarked, “And the fact that you smell like a decaying, bloated whale washed up on a beach that all the seagulls flock to just to get a chunk of its blubber but later throw up because of how rancid it is then the seagulls die of food poisoning and the carcasses of both the seagulls and whale lie there waiting for their next victim. Of course I can see you!” Dewey took the chance and snatched his hand back from his grip.

“You can see me!” The striped man threw his hands up in the air and cheered, “I’m gonna be free! A new best friend!” The man points at Dewey, “You! There must have been a reason that you came back, now come on! What is it? An enemy you need eliminating? Exterminating?”

“What? No!”

“Okay, fine! How about scaring? Possession? Murder?” The man practically squealed speaking that last one..

“No! No killing or hurting anyone! What is your problem?!” Dewey retorted.

“The problem, dear breather, is that no one can see me… you can!” The man applauded, “The remedy for that, say my name three times?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Say my name three times! Come on, I’ve got someone waiting for me and I told them I would be there in person so…” The man stated, “I’m not going to beg, so here is what I’m- Okay fuck it I’m begging,” The man fell to his knees, crawling and pawing at Dewey’s legs. “I am so tired of being unseen and alone and having you here is a blessing! Please! Help a guy out man! Say my name three times!”

Dewey squinted and swore the guy's hair turned purple for a second,“I don’t know, it seems suspicious.”

“I get it! I get it!” The striped man cried, “A weird guy living in a decaying house is really suspicious, but please man I gotta get out. Meet my own kind of people you know?”

“What kind of peo-”

“The physically liberal but socially conservative kind.” The man cut Dewey off, “Now come on, what do you say?”

Dewey regarded the man's appearance again, “Is.. that going to be the same for you?” Dewey regarded the clothes, “You look like you’re falling apart.”

“Of course I’m falling apart! I’m dead!” The man.. Or whatever he was, scalped himself. Showing Dewey his brains and the maggots that inhabited it. 

“What the hell are you?!” Dewey recoiled in disgust, averting his eyes away from the grotesque sight.

“Dead! Well demon, but stop wasting time, please help me man! I’m desperate!” The demon pleaded, pawing more aggressively at Dewey’s knees.

“Fine! Just get your hands off me! And put your… hair back on, I’m gonna hurl.”

“Right sorry, okay it’s back on.” The striped demon flipped his hair down and shuffled to stand back up.

“Thank god, okay.. What’s your name?” Dewey replied, trying to keep himself from losing his stomach.

The demon looked sheepishly at Dewey. “I.. can’t say it.” he croaked.

“What?!” Dewey snapped, “You can’t say your own name?!”

“Do you have a pen or…” The man snapped his fingers, “How about charades?”

“This is the weirdest thing I have ever done in my life,” Dewey muttered, “Okay sure.”

“Alright!” The man jumped in place and stuck out two fingers.

“Two words?” Dewey guessed.

“Yes!” He pointed to his second finger.

“Second word?”

“Correct!” he rubbed his stomach and mimed drinking… something?

“Drink?” The demon shook his head no, “uhm.. Beverage.. Wait that’s dumb. Wine? Milk?”

“No!”

“Shut up!” Dewey retorted, “Charades are hard.”

“Keep guessing!” The way that his guy was stomping around was akin to that of a child not getting candy from a grocery store.

“Okay..” Dewey watched him some more, taking more time to think on what he was trying to guess. But the way that he was puckering his face after drinking… “Uh, juice?”

“Yes!” the demon cheered.

“Alright first word then?” Dewey asked.

The man didn’t do anything but pointed behind Dewey. “Point?” A shake of the head no, “Finger? Fingerjuice?” A frustrated grunt, “Hand?” Dewey could practically see the steam leaving the man’s ears, “Bones?”

“FOR HELL'S SAKE LOOK BEHIND YOU.” The man yelled.

Dewey turned to find a large beetle that waved and disappeared in smoke.

“Beetle!” Dewey jumped, “Wait, Beetlejuice..” he whispered, “Your name is Beetlejuice?”

“Yes! Thank god, you suck at this game.” Betelgeuse wiped away non-existent sweat from his forehead while strutting to Dewey’s side, “Here’s my card. I couldn’t give it to you before since the magic doesn’t work that way.”

Dewey sighed in exasperation and took the card, “Betelgeuse, oh that’s you spell it.” Dewey read the card aloud, “The bio-exorcist?” He turned the card over, “Free demonic possession with every exorcism?”

“Yeap!” Betelgeuse popped the p for emphasis, “That’s me! Giving houses enemas since 1666.. I’m a bit out of practice though. So, my friend. Your name is Dewey right?”

“Yes how do you know tha-”

“Stole your wallet when you fainted by the front door. Although it wasn’t my best work, seeing you get all worked up and screaming was my favourite part. You should try getting scared more, it’s a good look for you.” Betelgeuse teased, “So now Dewey, now that you have my name. Let me explain a couple things.”

Betelgeuse snapped a chalkboard into existence.

“How did you-?” Dewey started.

“Unimportant.. So,” Betelgeuse pulled out a pointer while a piece of chalk began to write on the board. “Say my name three times in a row and I’ll be summoned to your side and you have my services. In turn, I will be finally seen by everyone and I can interact with the living.”

“Don’t you already interact with the living just by scaring everyone who comes in?”

“Shut up, no one likes explaining plot holes.”

Dewey rose a brow, “What?”

“That comment wasn’t for you. Second!” Betelgeuse slapped the board, “Say my name three times in a row again and then the summoning will be void and I’ll be sent back here. So please, let’s not have that.” The striped man sternly said.

“Anything else?” Dewey exasperatedly huffed, “I wasn’t expecting, nor did I ask for a lecture.”

The chalkboard and all of its accessories disappeared, “Right right.. Sorry.” Betelgeuse clapped his hands together, “Now come on, say it. Say my name three times!”

Dewey crossed his arms, “Just.. three times?”

“Yes! Come on!” Betelgeuse pleaded, “Don’t leave me hanging!”

“Betelgeuse..” Dewey started.

“Yes..” Dewey could hear something move in the walls as he began the summoning ritual.

“Betelgeuse...”

“Yes!” The rockstar watched as Betelgeuse rose into the air while the door kicked itself open by the wind that blew from nowhere. An unsettling aura was taking form around Betelgeuse’s body as he rose higher and higher into the room. “This is gonna be so good,” Dewey heard the gravelly voice dip more into demonic territory, “Just one more!”

“Beeeeeeeeeee…” Dewey didn’t want to summon this guy, the consequences of having a bio-exorcist roaming around would definitely cause some trouble, “cause.”

“What?!” Betelgeuse screamed in disbelief before falling to the floor, kicking up dust and other debris.

“Listen dude,” Dewey walked over, “It was very smart of you with the charades game but I work in the music industry and I work with children. I’ve dealt with critics, jerkwads of band mates through-out my life and entitled, elitist children. And I am not looking to add a ‘bio-exorcist’ into the mix. I’m sure that your… service is good but I’ll pass. Maybe the next person who sees you, and no doubt there will be, might be able to help you.” Dewey tore up the business card that he held.

“I don’t know how long that will be!” Betelgeuse cried.

“You know, Betelgeuse,” Betelgeuse perked up again, “Betelgeuse.” Betelgeuse’s eyes started to glisten, “being naive is something I know fully well and I know not to fall for something that I don’t benefit from. So apologies if I’m not the right person for this.” Dewey made his way to the door.

“Wait no! Don’t go!” Betelgeuse ran to the door, closing it shut and blocking the doorknob with his body.

“I can go as I please, now get out of the way. I have to nurse my finger, which you probably broke, asshole.” Dewey spat.

“You threw the punch! It wasn’t me!” Betelgeuse pointed out.

“And who was the one that scared me in the first place?” Dewey shot back, “Listen,” He breathed, “I know you want to get out but I can’t help you. I really hope someone else will come by but not me. I’m sorry man,” Dewey made a reach for Betelgeuse’s hand but that made the guy shrink further into the doorframe. “Get out of my way!”

“No!”

“Why are you being such a brat?” Dewey demanded, “This is worse than the kids.”

“Mr. Finn?!” a voice came from the other side of the door, “Are you in there?”

Dewey didn’t know whether to feel relief or annoyed by the fact that Caleb decided to follow him here. “See look, someone else is already here why don’t you get them to.”

“Mr. Finn?! I can hear you! Who are you talking to?” Caleb was close and Dewey could see his shadow from the bottom of the door. “I’m coming in!” Caleb opened the door which promptly threw Betelgeuse in front of Dewey.

“Caleb!” Dewey shout, “Can you help out this guy over here?” he pointed to Betelgeuse.

“What guy?” Caleb asked, confused.

“The guy who’s right in front of me?”

“Mr. Finn no one is there.” The hotel manager's eyes furrowed in concern, “How long have you been inside this house sir?”

“There’s someone sitting right here!” Dewey checked to make sure Betelgeuse was still there, “He’s in front of me!”

“He can’t see me dumbass,” Betelgeuse chastised, “This guy isn’t either scared or when he did see me so many years ago, the adults in the town told him that I wasn’t real.”

“Mr. Finn I believe you need some breakfast, you barely ate last night and are hallucinating from hunger,” Caleb softly spoke, “Let’s get back to the hotel to grab you some food?”

Dewey was speechless, here was a guy who has seen Betelgeuse in his youth but can’t see him now. “What kind of-” Dewey shook his head, “Fine, let’s go.” He turned to the ghoul in anger, Betelgeuse was probably pulling a fast one on him and was making him look crazy, “Yeah it might be from hunger, I think we should go now.” Dewey angrily sped walking past Caleb and out of the house with the manager trailing after him.

Betelgeuse stared in disbelief as to how quickly Dewey went along with that hunger and hallucination bullshit.

Dewey shut the door and walked away from the house to the direction of the hotel.

The last thing he heard from Betelgeuse was a demonic roar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo!! That was fun to write and coming up with new insults is probably the hardest this to do...
> 
> This chapter is HEAVILY inspired by Say My Name from BEETLEJUICE: TMTMTM!
> 
> Thank you for reading and as always: HAVE A NICE MORNING/DAY/AFTERNOON/EVENING/NIGHT.
> 
> LOVE YOU FOLKS!
> 
> HUGE THANKS TO THE FOLKS WHO LEAVE KUDOS AND COMMENTS, YA'LL ARE AMAZING <3


	6. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arriving back at the hotel, Caleb speaks his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright darn okay,  
> WRITERS BLOCK BEGONE!  
> Here's a short chapter for y'alls!  
> I'm going to have to work on my planner in terms for this fic. I know what I want from it but now it's working out the space in the middle... like filler and other stuffs.  
> WORLDBUILDING AINT IT GREAT?!

“What were you thinking?!” Caleb screamed at Dewey as soon as they entered the hotel foyer, “You scared me and the staff when you didn’t open the door for your breakfast! It sat there, untouched, when Leanne was making their rounds for the trays. I was just about to call the police to file a missing persons case!”

Dewey angrily sighed. He shouldn't be mad or irritated but at this point it was getting downright annoying, “I’m sorry but I needed to confirm something, it didn’t seem like a coincidence to me that you, me and a bunch of other people have seen or experienced a haunting this strong before. There had to be something in that house for real.” The rockstar took a seat in one of the chairs, sinking into it to feel the soft, leather texture, “I didn’t know you’d come after me.”

“Of course I would come after you!” Caleb cried, “You’re my patron and I have a responsibility!” The man took a deep breath before continuing, “If you were to go missing or worse, killed by some unfortunate incident, I won’t be able to live with myself! I am very passionate about the people who come through and board in this hotel and I treat them as if they are my own children! Call it obsessive or overbearing but I promised myself to take care of each individual who stays here.”

Dewey rolled his eyes, “Look I said I was sorry and I thank you for looking after me and the other patrons but things didn’t add up. Has there ever been evidence of paranormal activity at the Ryder House before? And not just from the locals but from people who had stayed here?”  _ A stupid question to ask,  _ Dewey thought.  _ But there has to be some conclusive evidence to- _

“There have been multiple investigations in the past but none of them were conclusive,” the manager interrupted his thoughts, “everything was easily debunked by level-minded people and when the investigators did come by it, there was barely enough evidence! All their equipment couldn’t find one single piece of evidence that tied that house to anything paranormal.”

“Not even one?” Dewey asked incredulously, “And what do you mean by level-minded people? The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Caleb promptly shut his mouth.

_ Foot in the mouth idiot.  _ Dewey rolled his eyes, “Fine whatever, care to explain why does the skin of my hand feel like it's been ripped and why does my ring finger pound?”

“Probably because you scraped yourself when you tried to exit the building!” Caleb reached for Dewey’s hand, “The skin could’ve been grazed against splintered wood and you could have bumped your hand against something solid!” The man pressed against Dewey’s finger causing him to wince, “I don’t feel any fractures or tears in the muscle, it’s just a bad sprain. Rest that finger and don’t do anything reckless that makes the injury worse.” Caleb scolded but then took another breath to calm down, “Mr. Finn you did miss breakfast this morning and I’m worried that you are in hysterics, some more rest and good food might help you recover. There will be a knock on your door with warm food in a moment, I suggest going back to your room and please don’t disappear again.”

With that, Caleb walked away from Dewey. The rockstar angrily clenched his fists, ignoring the sting of pain that begged him to unclench, “I’m not a damn child,” he grumbled, irritably swiping the card into its lock, “ _ some more rest and good help might help you recover,”  _ Dewey mockingly imitated Caleb, “Bullshit, I knew what I saw..” He pulled out his phone and checked it’s battery life, unfortunately it died a while ago. “Fuck.”

Dewey sat on the bed and reached for his phone charger, he had to wait a couple minutes before it had charged to a point where he could turn it on.

Dewey, now irritated, threw his phone onto the bed and looked to the direction of the wall. He wanted to punch it. However a knock from the door stopped him from doing so.

“Mr. Finn, your food is here.” A female voice called, “The tray on the floor when you are ready.”

Now the ticked off rockstar thrust open the door to grab the tray, not even bothering to check if that lady was still around. He chomped down through the entire tray messily as he wanted to get this damned thing out of the room as soon as possible, hopefully a cold shower will cool himself down.

Dewey threw the tray down out of the room as soon as he stuffed the last bit of food into his mouth. He didn’t bother to think that it was tasty or delicious, he just needed to eat…. And he  _ was  _ very hungry.

Hastily casting aside his dirtied clothes into his makeshift laundry bin (his suitcase) and went to the bathroom to shower.

It was a very quick one but he did stay for an extra couple minutes to cool off the heat in his head.

The phone was about 12% by the time Dewey got out and it looked like there were 3 missed calls dated 2 hours ago with an accompanying 3 voice mails.. Dewey internally cursed as Betelgeuse must have done something to his phone while he was over there. Dewey flinched as he hopes that even thinking the name doesn’t count. He doesn’t want to accidentally summon him while he is working.

Of course 2 out of the 3 voicemails were from Ned and one from a number he doesn’t recognize. Dewey planted himself onto the bed as he unlocked the phone and opened the first voicemail from Ned.

**_*BEEP*_ ** _ Hey, it’s Dewey Finn. I can’t answer the phone right now… Too busy ROCKING OUT! Please leave a message after the guitar riff, WEEEEE-  _

**_*BEEP*_ ** _ Dewey!  _ Ned’s vocal timbre made Dewey relax into the sheets but he could hear the panic in Ned’s voice.  _ Are you alright?! I heard that you fainted! Oh god maybe going alone wasn’t the best idea, hell I should be with you! When I got the call from Caleb I almost packed my bags myself and almost leapt into my car if Caleb didn’t say you were safe in your room. Thank God he did! _

Dewey smiled. Even from afar, Dewey was still giving Ned heart attacks and that is not going to stop anytime soon.

_ “Take a chill pill bro, it wasn’t that bad,” you would say but how can I? You could have died! Oh my god I need to sit down.  _ A soft  _ hmph _ was heard signalling Ned had sat down.  _ I am SO going to talk your ear off when you get back! You’re so lucky that you’re on vacation! And you left the hotel at an ungodly hour today? What the hell are you do- _

Ned abruptly stopped speaking. A long inhale followed by an even longer exhale followed. Good thing he was a teacher, no doubt he had to do that to multiple students or any other unruly individual.

_ Dewey, I’m sorry.  _ Ned's voice had and sounded more somber making Dewey sit up in attention.  _ I don’t mean to yell but I feared the worst. First the fainting and then you disappearing for a couple hours? Made me believe that someone was stalking you and kidnapped you. I mean, what am I going to do without my Maggot Death buddy?  _ A soft chuckle was heard and Dewey snorted at the mention of the old band name.  _ You don’t have to call back, I know you’re listening to these and I know that Caleb is doing an amazing job of taking care of you. I just want to know that you’re okay and hearing some form of news from Caleb is good enough and everything he says is then relayed to the children. They sure miss their teacher.. Night Dewey.  _ **_*BEEP*_ **

As much as it is annoying to feel like someone is watching you 24/7, it is comforting for Dewey that Ned has his back after all these years. Even back in High School, Ned always had Dewey’s back and Dewey had Ned’s. They used to get in so much trouble together… sneaking out of the house to go to rock shows with fake ID’s and going to any party that had any sort of substance to get that rush. However now that they were adults, it seemed unprofessional to have someone spot them in a very compromising position. They had to be mature...

Well, Ned had to be mature. Dewey could just be Dewey.

Dewey scrolled down to the next voicemail and tapped the screen to load the next one.

**_*BEEP*_ ** _ Hey, it’s Dewey Finn. I can’t answer the phone right now… Too busy ROCKING OUT! Please leave a message after the guitar riff, WEEEEE-  _

_ Mr. Finn!  _ The unglorified screech of a prepubescent girl made the man flinch. Of course Dewey should have expected an earful from the Band Manager..  _ I just got the news! A fainting AND a disappearance? What on earth were you thinking? The police were almost called and we would have lost our front man to the winds! You could have ended up like Jim Morrison and Buddy Holly!  _ Dewey chuckled as she certainly has done her research in terms of rock legends.  _ I made Mr. Schneebly swear to not tell the band as that would worry them but you are in monumentous trouble. The audacity and gall for not only reciprocating Mr. Schneebly’s calls but to cause panic for both of us is unprecedented, we are not equipped to handle a loss this early in the band. When you get back we are having a talk!  _ **_*BEEP*_ **

Dewey drew in a shuttered breath. Summer is one of the many people Dewey has grown to respect and sometimes he can be a little afraid around her. She’s very commanding, almost to the point where Dewey might call her bitchy. Summer would say that yes she is strong and bossy, that in turn does not make her a bitch.

_ “All women have a right to be equal and just as assertive and competitive as men in their respective work force.”  _ Summer said that to him once. He may have rolled his eyes back then but Dewey knows that Summer is going to be one hell of a CEO to whatever company she might create.

His phone still had one last message on it, an unknown number that Dewey doesn’t recognize. He wasn’t expecting any calls nor did he give his number away before he left. It probably has something to do with those spam callers that love to make their rounds to any random person. How they get people’s numbers, Dewey does not know.

He tapped the screen to hear the message.

**_*BEEP*_ ** _ Hey, it’s Dewey Finn. I can’t answer the phone right now… Too busy ROCKING OUT! Please leave a message after the guitar riff, WEEEEE-  _

_ Mr. Finn?  _ A shy voice came through the speaker. Dewey shot up and gasped as he recognized the shy voice to be Tomika’s.  _ Uhm..  _ There was something inaudible that made Dewey scramble for the volume button in an effort to hear her.  _ I’m scared… Mr. Schneebly said… he- he said.  _ He slouched on the headboard as the recording of the girl struggled to form words.  _ Please come back Mr. Finn. We need you.  _ Dewey’s grip on the phone loosened.

_ Tomika darling, who are you talking to?  _

The message ended there.

Dewey slumped further into the covers.

_ We need you. _

The rockstar stared in disbelief into the pale blue screen of his phone, hearing Tomika plead on an never ending loop. Sure, when he had been posing as Ned he was cold to the young girl since she refused to speak up but when she opened her mouth and sang, Dewey was in awe. Her voice was mature and overlooked her small stature.

_ They sure miss their teacher. _

Dewey scrambled for his suitcase and started to pack everything in.

He needs to go home.

_ We need you. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3
> 
> Love you all!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> I have been in a HEAVY writers block for weeks and I have now just started thinking of what I want with Heart of Stone and The Ballad of Dewey Finn.
> 
> YES I KNOW WHAT A BALLAD IS, IT JUST SEEMED LIKE A GOOD TITLE OKAY?


End file.
